


this one is for you

by bluegoodness



Series: summer 2018 // klance [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, FIFA World Cup 2018, Family Loss, Flirting, Fluff, Football Player Keith, Football player lance, Football | Soccer, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Homophobic Language, Japanese Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, aka fifa is amazing and these two gotta get in on it, lance refuses to acknowledge the word soccer even though he plays the sport in the usa, summer 2018 bb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegoodness/pseuds/bluegoodness
Summary: Lance[10:30 a.m.]>tell me why im at keith koganes place by myself.> Where are you?> youre not coming huhAllura ♥[10:32 a.m.]>no one else showed up? weird>and no lol im notLance[10:32 a.m.]>im gonna kill you_Lance is beyond excited for the 2018 FIFA World Cup. So, when Allura invites him to attend a viewing party, Lance decides to check it out. He ends up at the home of Keith Kogane— the striker for Marmora University's futbol team. Lance’s rival. The bane of his existence. And, the one player Lancemighthave a thing for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: for reference, Lance lives in the US, in the state of California :)

Lance loves futbol. It was a simple game: find a ball and kick it until you lose feeling in your legs. Until every ounce of your concentration is zoned in between your body and the position of the ball. It didn’t matter if it was flat or not, because there were many ways to utilize it. Kick it against a wall. Dribble it long enough to eventually find your rhythm. Kick it in between a makeshift goal. To Lance, it was therapeutic to be able to dribble the ball from foot to foot. The thump of it nesting in the curve of his leg almost synchronized to his breathing. It was something to focus on and ever since his father kicked a ball towards him when he was two. He encouraged Lance to kick it back, and Lance was hooked.

Since then, it became his escape. His home. It gave him family in the boys he played with. Heroes to look up to. Helped him find the confidence and growth he needed when he struggled with anxiety and insecurity. Yes, it was a source of it as well. Nobody likes missing a penalty kick or miscalculating a play. They were mistakes, but Lance was only improving from those mistakes. He was  playing for a Division I team on scholarship because those mistakes let him get better. 

Since his introduction to the sport, he was playing ball anytime he could.  Growing up, he would run up and down the block trying to get the neighbor kids to play with him and his older brother, James who was his unofficial personal coach.

They played a lot of streetball, but it was also easy for them to spend hours on the comforting sands of Varadero Beach, playing game after game there. The sand protected them when they do outrageous slides or when they jump too far back for a header and tumble backward. Getting sand everywhere was a pain, but it was still worth it. 

So, when it comes to the sport, he loves playing it. But, he also loves to watch it. And you can’t be a futbol fan and not watch the most exciting, beautiful competition in the world: The FIFA World Cup.

He would honestly question anyone's humanity if they don't get a little emotional watching FIFA. It was an emotional game. Lance wasn't even in the stadium, and he gets teary-eyed right along with them. These men were _representing_ their country. The beauty of futbol was that anyone has a shot. Players don’t need equipment; just their legs, a ball and the will to play.

That is why it is _the_ international sport. So seeing teams that might not be “first-world” but are there to represent their country is pretty incredible. Lance can only imagine the pride and awe that they must be feeling as they stand on the freshly cut grass, their hands to their chest, and their fate up in the air. 

Lance blows out a breath, and slides a finger across his screen, opening up onefootball. There are a ton of articles already posted about the games today. Mexico beat Germany –– something that left his voice raw and hoarse for hours. Hunk has probably 20 videos of him screaming at the TV and jumping up and down as he watched the game unfold. He was raised with a family of futbol fans, so being a little… enthusiastic was normal for him. After all, the underdog won. They actually beat the 2014 Champions. Left them at zero goals. Lance has said it a thousand times and he will say it again: Mexico's goalie, Ochoa, can get it _any day._ The way he protects that goal is that beautiful.

Though he was really happy to watch FIFA, he wishes he could watch it with his family instead of prepping for the new season and taking two summer classes. There was something about not being home for the FIFA that just tugged at him. He was able to Facetime them during some of the games but it wasn’t the same.

He missed hearing his dad bellow out _gooooaaallll_ like the commentators when his team wins. The feeling of waking up in the wee morning to watch the game, his mom already having breakfast laid out for him and his siblings. It was a major family thing and he wasn’t there. He sighs and clicks his phone shut. There wasn’t any point in looking when he’s gonna watch once he gets home anyway.

He texts his teammate Luis if he wants to watch it together. It's never as fun when you watch it by yourself. 

⚽⚽⚽

“Hey,” Allura says, as she pulls a chair out to sit across from him.

She gracefully sits down, sliding her purse onto the back of her chair. She looks beautiful as always, long silver hair braided at the front and away from her face. She was wearing a yellow sundress and he was convinced that the color yellow was made for her to wear. It’s been almost two weeks into their summer break but the two haven’t had time to hang out yet.

“Hey.” Lance says, pulling his cup closer to him, thumbing his straw. He was already halfway done with his drink, having finished up practice earlier than Allura did work.

“What did you get?” She fixes her position so she can look up at the menu near them. They’re at a Whole Foods near her place and a smoothie from there was calling his name.

“A berry bomb.” Lance says, taking a sip of its deliciousness. “It’s amazing.”

Allura nods and takes a closer look at the menu. She gets up and orders and comes back a few minutes later with some orange yellow colored juice.

She takes a small sip and nods approvingly. “So, how has your summer been so far?”

Lance runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the mess that was his summer break. “Coach is trying to kill us and I actually hate taking summer classes.”

“Yeah, but that means you get to graduate a semester early,” Allura reminds him. Which is amazing and Lance is very much grateful, but it is still awful. “And it’s not like you’re paying for it anyway.”

Lance nods. “Thank god the athletic department has hella leftover funding for summer scholarships.” He slumps back in his seat. “Which, thanks for telling me about that.” Lance wasn’t sure what he did in his past life to have met Allura and not ruined any shot of friendship after his awful pick up line. He distantly remembers it being somehow _Game of Thrones_ related. Which really, was probably a red flag looking back.  

She nearly decked him but somehow he saved face and they’ve been friends since. She was also a mentor to him. He probably wouldn’t have known how to manage school and futbol if he didn’t have her guiding him. She had gained a wealth of knowledge as one of the universities volleyball players.

“Like, do they just shit money?” Lance wonders out loud, not at all unhappy that they do in fact shit money. Athletic departments at schools are loaded, and if Lance can get even more to fund his degree, then he is all good with it.

Allura laughs, her smile widening around the straw. “Basically. And no worries, I’m glad I can help you out since no one told me any of this.”

Again, Allura was an angel and his go-to about literally anything. Except, dating. She got a little too invested in that area.

He takes a closer look at her. She looks even prettier than usual. “Post-grad life seems to be treating you well.”

She beams at him. “Isn’t it?” She tosses some hair over her shoulder. “It’s amazing how what a proper sleep schedule can do for your body.”

Lance snorts. “Shut up. You wake up with glowing skin.” Lance points at his face, peeling his eyes at her. “I need like ten different products to look like a human.”

It’s disgusting how sensitive his skin is. It really had an attitude.  If he doesn’t wash his face for one night, his skin says, _okay, bitch,_ and bam-- a new non-rent paying tenant on his face the next day.

She rolls her eyes at him, an amused quirk to her lips. “You’re incredibly dramatic.” She tilts her head and taps at her mouth. “You need maybe six. Tops.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lance murmurs, taking a long sip of his drink. She lightly nudges his leg under the table and Lance nudges it back.

“You excited about D.C?”

She bites her lower lip and slowly nods. “Yeah. I am.”

“Actually, I am a little nervous,” she admits, a sheepish smile on her lips. “Excited more, though.” She toys around with her straw. “But packing is awful.”

“You’re going to kill it.” Lance says, already knowing she will be the star intern at the U.N. “You will be the first female president of the U.S.”

He spreads his arms out wide and looks heavenward. “I am speaking it into existence.”

She laughs, and Lance lips quirk up because her laugh was nice to hear. “Thanks, Lance. And you will be running the futbol world.”

“You already know,” Lance grins, brushing off the nonexistence dirt off his shoulders.

Allura snaps her fingers and points her index finger to the ceiling. “Which reminds me! My friend is hosting a FIFA viewing party this Saturday.”

“What? Really?” Lance raises his brows. FIFA viewing parties in the US? Lance almost snorts. The US did not view futbol like the rest of the world did. It also didn’t help that they didn’t even qualify for the group stage. He can't imagine anyone outside of his team hosting a viewing party. 

Allura nods, and leans in to the table. “It’s actually at the place of a friend of a friend.”

“Does this friend of a friend have a nice TV?” Lance inquires, already dreading the idea of having to sit front row and center to see little bodies move. “You know I need some good quality.” Lance streams everything onto the TV that he and Hunk bought together last year. His parents still have cable so he’s able to stream the game from their account. It really has come in clutch since, during the week, Lance can’t watch it live.

She quirks the corner of her lip. “Yes, I know and he does. He’s a huge futbol fan as well.”

“Oh.” Lance nods. “Do I know him?”

She pokes out her bottom lip, a crease in between her brows. “I’m not sure, maybe?” She twirls her straw, her gaze on the cup. “Are you down?”

Lance raises a shoulder in a half-shrug. He was already planning on watching the game anyway. He might as well socialize and try to enjoy the game without having his family around.

“Yeah, I’m down. I’ll bring some food too. Maybe donuts.” His mom raised him to never go to a home empty-handed, after all.

She grins at him. “Wonderful. I’ll text you his address.”

“You don’t wanna ride together?”

“I’m going to be doing something earlier that day,” she waves him off. “I’ll probably just head straight over.”

Lance hesitates. He doesn’t just wanna show up at the door of some random person on a Saturday morning.

“Are you sure this person meant a viewing party?” Lance asks, second thoughts coming to him. Who wants a bunch of strangers coming to their place that early anyway? He also doesn’t like showing up at a place and he may or may not know the owner. It’s just weird.

“I’m sure, Lance. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t mean it,” she assures him, shaking her head. So it was a he. Lance considers asking her for his name but decides it doesn’t really matter. She’ll be there and he can just introduce himself as “Allura’s friend.” 

“If you’re sure…”

Allura lips curve into a confident smile, and it eases Lance. “I am. So what has your favorite game been so far?”

The conversation dives more into FIFA and their analyzing of past games and anticipation for the upcoming ones. Moved towards celebrity drama than to how their families are doing. Lance inquires more about Allura’s internship and hypes her up as much as he can. Allura is easily one of the most confident people he knows but everyone needs a little pick me up.

As they crack jokes, Lance feels the small pit at the bottom of stomach deepen. Summer was going to be a little bit of a bummer without her.

Lance is going to be busy. As an upper division student, he’s only a year away from graduation.  However, after adding a minor he added an extra semester he does not want at all. With the season only a few months away from starting, he’s also trying to get in the groove of it all with summer practices. Even though he was busy, it did suck to know that his friends weren’t around as much either.

They talk and talk and Lance tries to forget about the small pit in his stomach. She was here right now and that is what matters. 

 

⚽⚽⚽

Lance is carrying a case of beer and a box of donuts when he somehow manages to be able to ring the doorbell that Saturday. He has got to admit, he _is_ excited about being able to watch the game with other people.

He waits for a beat and takes a quick glance around the place. It’s an apartment off campus, so Lance had to drive. Not to mention that he was carrying food. The last thing he needed on game day was to drop all the goods making his way to the party.

Lance eyes the door, it was painted a deep grey that almost neared black. Their surrounding walls were stark white. There was a plant near his right foot and a deep red welcome mat.

He looks behind him. Were there other cars lined up on the block? It didn’t look like it. Lance turns back to the door and leans closer to it, hoping to get a sense if other people were there.  He doesn’t hear anything from inside. Are people coming? Was the guy asleep?

Lance bites his lower lip. He really didn’t want to ring that doorbell again; he already feels annoying.  Ugh. This was so lame. He wants to hit his head against the wall. So. Fucking. Lame. Now, he’s going to miss the opening and drive back to his place all because this guy decided that he didn’t want to host it after all.

Whatever. He heaves in a breath and slowly releases it, shifting his body towards down the stairs. He was gonna have a word with Allura because her so-called friend sucks.

His foot hits the first step when the door opens. Only by reflex did Lance look over his shoulder too. Only by the grace of God did Lance not trip over himself and fall down a flight of stairs at the sight in front of him.

Pale skin. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Yup. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Keith?” He barely chokes out the name. His skin is prickling with heat, and it wasn’t because of the summer sun glaring down at him. No. It was because he was at the front door of Keith Kogane, the striker for the Marmora University soccer team. Also known as, Lance’s university league rival.  

_He’s also the one player you have a thing for,_ says a voice in his head. The voice was teasing, prodding, knowing. It was Allura. It was always Allura when it came to these things. To Keith.

He decides at that moment he was going to have more than a word with her. He was going to freakin’ kill her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there are two flashbacks in this chapter. It is a long one too. Hope y'all like it!

“You coming in?” Keith asks, leaning against the doorframe, a brow quirked at Lance.“Or, were you planning on standing there forever?”

His hair was down, reaching just past his chin. Keith’s hair was always a point of struggle for Lance. On one hand, it was ridiculous that he had a borderline mullet. In the past few months, it got longer and wavy. Yet, it still had its mullet resemblance.

On the other, he worked it. And, he never had it down during games. It was always tied up and secured, leaving Lance with nothing to stare at except his piercing dark eyes and clear ass skin. Seeing him so casual and comfortable at home... it was definitely a look. In fact, the sight made his head swim a little like he was in an alternate universe. He was definitely in uncharted territory.

“Yeah,” He shakes his head. _Get it together_. “Yeah, for sure.”

Lance follows him inside, his eyes browsing around the apartment. There was a ball near the sofa, and an unlaced pair of cleats besides it. He had one of those long couches, that was shaped like an L. It was nearly black and when he holds it for balance to take off his shoes, he feels the soft cloth. He loves it. And directly in front of the sofa was a large TV hiked up against the wall. Lance nearly rubs his hands in anticipation. This is what he was talking about.

He opens his mouth, feeling the need to say something to break the silence. What could he say, though? Everything about the situation felt weird. Lance, a University of Altea player, is at the place of a Marmora University player. Not only that, it was the home of Keith Kogane. Their star striker. He must be breaking code for this. Lance carefully shuts the door.

“Am I in the right place?” Nobody was there. Literally no one. He sets down the donuts on the table because his arms were starting to hurt. _Why was no one else there._

“Uh,” Keith says, scratching the back of his neck. His shirt rises, revealing pale skin and toned muscle. Lance looks away because _damn_. Lance is really not prepared for this at all. “Were you here to watch the game?”

“FIFA?” Keith nods. “Yeah, I was. Allura said to come over, but no one is here?” Lance ends, looking around the room, to make sure that no one just popped out of thin air.

“Am I early?” Unlikely. If anything, the other people were running majorly late.

Keith frowns. “Um, they canceled. Some stuff came up, I guess.”

Keith shoves his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at Lance. He was wearing jogging shorts that were riding low  
on his hips.

Lance clears his throat, swiftly moving his gaze off the other boy before he gets caught and slowly nods. Canceled, his ass. Allura is going to be crucified. He decides he is going to give her a slow, slow death.

“Oh.” Lance laughs sheepishly. “Well, I did not get that memo. Clearly.”

He scratches at his temple. What is he supposed to do? He can just leave but what about the food? It’s rude to just take it. An awkward silence fills the room. He also just got there and the game was going to start soon. He does not want to miss it.

Lance rubbed his forearm. How to continue…

They are two players from opposing teams that had a bad history. Always at each other’s throats. Keith did actually tackle him out of frustration once. Which looking back, is kind of hilarious. He was that irritated. They’ve both grown since then, Lance thinks, remembering Keith’s words in the last game they played together last season.

 

 

>   
>  **December 2016**
> 
> _“McClain!”_
> 
> _Lance turned around and found Keith Kogane, number 3, aka the bane of his existence, jogging towards him. He physically restrains himself from rolling his eyes. The fucking audacity. Lance grips his water bottle._
> 
> _“Good game.” Keith says once he is right in front of Lance. He still has hair up, which drives Lance insane. He should just shave it off. All of it. It looked ridiculous._
> 
> _“You already said that earlier.” Lance says since all the players clapped hands at the end of the game._
> 
> _“Well,” Keith raises one shoulder, “I wanted to say it again. You really improved.”_
> 
> _Does he know how condescending he came off as? Lance side-eyes him, ready to sass him.“Glad you noticed.”_
> 
> _“Pretty hard not to notice.” Keith says, a curve to his mouth. It was small but genuine. No smugness. Lance blinks. Why was Keith smiling at him?_
> 
> _“Huh?”_
> 
> _Keith clears his throat and ducks his head down. Lance stops himself from ducking down too to catch another glimpse of that smile. Keith is the last person Lance wants to see right now. He made the winning score in extra time. He is the bane of Lance’s existence. But… it would be nice to catch a glimpse of that smile again._
> 
> _“Thanks.”_
> 
> _Lance takes another pull of water. His heartbeat, that just had slowed down from getting off the game, was spiking up again. All because of the same person. Couldn’t he give him just a few minutes to recover before coming at him with this new stuff?_
> 
> _Keith looks up, his cheeks still tinged pink from the game. His eyes are bright when they lock eyes and Lance does not feel the desire to say anything else to him. He isn’t sure what Keith wants to say, but Lance feels like there was something there. They stare at one another for a moment, and Lance feels his own cheeks heating up._
> 
> _“Anyways, it was good seeing you.” Keith claps a hand on his shoulder. “Come even harder next season, yeah?”_
> 
> _“Always,” Lance manages to let out._
> 
> _His body buzzes with hyper-awareness, electricity, and confusion. Keith willingly touched him. The only times when he does that is if he’s marking Lance or slide tackling the ball from underneath his feet. Or, just any other point in a game where he is just around Lance. Which these days, feels more often than not._
> 
> _Lance watches him walk away, his head still swimming with the events of the game._
> 
> _What was that all about?_
> 
> _Lance turns to his teammates and finds Luis giving him a curious look. He shrugs at him. He has no clue._
> 
> _He still latches onto one thing though. He thinks Lance improved. Lance takes another long pull of water, hoping that can fizz out the churning of warmth in his stomach._
> 
> _If he thinks Lance improved now, he’s going to get a major awakening come next season._

 

This _thing_ between two of them didn’t have the best start. There was a lot of tackles, fouls, and insults thrown back and forth between them. However, things have gotten better between them the older they got. More respect. More maturity.

It got better enough for Lance to now have a small, minuscule appreciation for Keith’s kicking form. The steely, confident way he pins his eyes on Lance when he defends him. The way he would smirk at Lance when Lance is about to rush him.

Now he was alone with him at his place. _Possibilities_ , Allura sings in his head. _Shut it_ , he snaps back.

“Well…” Keith starts, scratching the back of his neck,”We can still watch it together if you still want to?”

Lance opens his mouth to say no, that he could just head home. That he didn’t want to impose. But… Lance does want to stay. Hunk was home but he was going to have Shay over to just hang out. Lance told him he could have the place because he knew he was going to be out for most of the morning. Plus, it was one of his few off days. Hunk was killing himself over his internship. If he doesn’t get a job after graduation at the top engineering companies, then Lance is going to throw hands.

Nevertheless, he didn’t want to go home and watch this game huddled up in his bedroom when he could just stay and… hang out with Keith.

“Sure,” Lance says, not letting himself think on it too much. They were just gonna watch the game. No big deal.

Lance didn’t realize how hesitant and off Keith had looked until he saw his shoulders relax right in front of him. Huh. Keith nods, shooting him one of those blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smiles. It doesn’t do anything but make Lance’s dumb heart flutter.

Lance smiles back, resting his hands behind his back. He pinches himself a little to ground himself. _Calm down._

“Cool.” Keith guides him towards the living room and gestures to the couches. “You can sit wherever.”

Lance nods and takes a seat, but once a thought occurs to him, he slips his phone out of his pocket. Keith disappears off into one of the rooms and Lance opens a text.

 **Lance [10:30 a.m.] **  
** ** >tell me why im at keith koganes place by myself.  
> Where are you? youre not coming huh

 **Allura ♥ [10:32 a.m.]**  
>no one else showed up? weird  
>and no lol im not

 **Lance [10:32 a.m.]**  
>Im gonna kill you

Lance hangs his head, refraining from letting out a groan. He was ninety-nine percent sure that Allura planned this out.

Knowing her, he doubted there was anyone else invited. She scammed him. He glances to the area where Keith left. _Did he know?_ Lance shakes his head, recalling how wide Keith’s eyes got at the sight of him at his door. Keith doesn’t even bother acting when he’s on the field, so he doubts he is that good of an actor. Plus, looking at the state of the place–– no food out and the TV was on some random cable channel and not on FOX–– Keith was as clueless as Lance.

Lance would bet that Allura is at home right now. He doesn’t know why he decided to tell her offhandedly that one (stupid) time he thought Keith was attractive. They went to go see a Marmora game together and it slipped out accidentally while they were checking out players on both sides. Easily the biggest mistake of his life. 

 

 

>   
>  **November 2017**
> 
> _Lance regrets it the second it slips out of his mouth._
> 
> _“Oh,” Allura says, her voice dipping low in understanding. “Okay.”_
> 
> _Lance rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”Oh, it was something all right._
> 
> _“Sure.”_
> 
> _After that moment, Lance has been fielding questions left and right. Making sure not to take the bait of Allura pointing out how Keith leads the team or how quick he is. How nice his ass is. All things Lance thinks about but none that he wants to talk about right now. Especially when the guy is right in front of him._
> 
> _So, he decides just wholeheartedly invest himself in the game. He might get a little loud. He also might say Keith’s name more than once. Keith never once turns around which Lance actually wants. Hopefully, his voice is getting washed out by the rest of the crowd._
> 
> _It finally reaches halftime. Marmora is leading 2-1. Lance might have gone a little overboard when Keith scored. He megged a Galra defender. Lance was hollering._
> 
> _“Your boyfriend is pretty good,” Allura says, nudging his shoulder._
> 
> _Lance groans out loud. “Allura. Stop. He’s not my boyfriend.”_
> 
> _He turns to her, hoping that he can get through to her. He’s going to lose it if she keeps making Lance focus on Keith. “He’s just my competition. That’s why I’m here._
> 
> _“Are you sure?” Allura nudges him with her elbow. “Is that why you screamed his name like that?”_
> 
> _Lance clamps his jaw shut. His cheeks flush. “Well…”_
> 
> _Allura raises a brow. The corner of her mouth twitched and Lance groans out loud. “Uh-huh.”_
> 
> _“Shut up.” Lance starts, crossing his arms across his chest. He glares at the seats in front of him. “Just. Don’t say anything more about him.” It was weird enough for him to try and process his feelings. He didn’t need Allura giving him anything to add to it._
> 
> _Allura stays silent for a second before leaning in. “Can I just say one thing?”_
> 
> _Lance looks heavenwards. “What?”_
> 
> _“He keeps looking over here.”_
> 
> _Lances heart just about stops. His instinct, of course, is to look. Why was he looking over here? Look away, Keith. Go drink water or something._
> 
> _“Is he still looking?”_
> 
> _“Yes. Lance,” Allura urges, “Look over and say hi. Don’t be rude.”_
> 
> _Lance wants to scoff._
> 
> _First off, he didn’t even want Keith to know he was there but that’s out of the window. Of course, he was loud as hell so maybe Keith heard him but still._
> 
> _Second of all, you know what was rude? Keith. Keith was a rude person so Lance does not have to say hi to him. Even if he drove out to see him play. It wasn’t like he cared how his game went. Nope. Just gaining intel on the team so he could whoop his ass in a few weeks._
> 
> _Lance exhales and looks over to the field. Keith wasn’t that hard to find since he was near the bleachers. He was talking to one of his teammates. Allura was a dirty liar._
> 
> _Lance is about to look away but they lock eyes and Keith cuts his conversation with a pat on the arm on the other guy. He walks closer to the edge of the field. Lance takes him in. He was in his black and purple jersey. It was his favorite combination of uniform. Black was a color made for Keith._
> 
> _Keith’s hair was still up but there were loose curls escaping from the bun. Which was a given seeing as how fast he was running and rolling around on the field, having to put up with slide tackles and uncalled ankle clips throughout the first half. He’s surprised any hair managed to stay in place, actually._
> 
> _Keith leans against the little fence separating them and does… nothing. He just stares at Lance, resting his head against his crossed hands. He should be sitting down and resting, not standing there looking at Lance._
> 
> _Even with a little bit of distance, Lance still feels that current of a lightning strikes his nerves. Keith’s attention should come with a warning label. Warning: you might experience lightheadedness, heart palpitations and shortness of breath._
> 
> _Lance tilts his head. After a beat, he gives him a hesitant wave. The skin around Keith’s eyes crinkle a little— he knows it— before he hides his face in the crook of his arm. Did Lance do something funny?_
> 
> _When Keith looks back at him, Lance quirks a brow and mouths ‘what?’_
> 
> _Keith shakes his head, and mouths back ‘hi’_
> 
> _Lance frowns. That smile grows wider. Did he hit his head too many times during the game? Suddenly, a small wave of worry floods him. That could be possible. Keith was really bad at taking care of himself. Last season, his teammates had to push him off the field because he insisted on playing through a game even though his nose was bleeding badly. Lance had considered saying something but he decided against it, thinking Keith wouldn’t care for what Lance had to say._
> 
> _This time, though, he decides to say something._
> 
> _He points at the bench and shouts, “Go rest before you mess yourself up in the second half.”_
> 
> _Keith’s smile widens. Dangerous. “You worried for me?”_
> 
> _He has such a nice smile._
> 
> _Lance cheeks tingle in warmth. “Never. Just want you in the best shape when I kick your ass.”_
> 
> _Keith ducks his head, and Lance sees his shoulders shake a little. Look up, he thinks. If Lance makes him laugh, he wants to see his prize. That smile is something else._
> 
> _“Good luck!” Lance adds, feeling like it was the right thing to say._
> 
> _Keith nods and salutes goodbye to him. Lance waves bye, leaning back in his chair. His eyes follow Keith as he walks over to where his team is and sits beside them. They pat his back and one teammate looks back over to where Allura and Lance are. It’s one of the midfielders. What was his name? Alex!_
> 
> _He catches Lance’s eye and his brows go high before he nods at him. Lance returns it. He watches as he whispers something to Keith. Keith glances over at him, for a quick second before sliding off. Lance doesn’t see his expression but by the grin on Alex’s face, he is a little curious._
> 
> _Keith scores again by the end of the second half, keeping them in the lead. Lance whistles, not bothering to stay in his seat. That goal was beautiful._
> 
> _Keith runs past the goal, his teammates shouting and running after him. And then he comes back to the edge of the field. And he smiles directly at Lance. It was a gorgeous sight._
> 
> _“Thanks,” Keith shouts. His voice gets lost in the sea of noise but Lance knows what he meant._
> 
> _Lance's heart is currently lodged in his throat but he manages to have the brain cells to smile back at him. A second later, Keith gets swallowed by his teammates._
> 
> _Lance plop his ass down on the seat and buried his burning cheeks in his hands. The idiot. Why did he do that? Making Lance think and feel things by doing thoughtless things like that._
> 
> _He feels Allura’s eyes on him. He can feel the amusement coming off of her in waves. He didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was on the verge of squealing._
> 
> _“Not a word.”_
> 
> _Her twinkling laughter is enough for him to realize that Lance is in trouble. Big, big, trouble._

All of this had happened months ago but Lance would be lying he said that his weird _feelings_ just disappeared because the season ended.

Lance still sees Keith on social media, not his own but from his teammates. Keith is too cool for social media, apparently. Lance follows Alex and the two of them seem to be pretty close.

So, if he finds himself looking for Keith at Alex’s story or Instagram posts, then it’s nobody’s business.

 **Allura [10:38 a.m.]**  
>have funnn

She adds in a laughing emoji because she is cruel. Lance is not laughing.

Keith comes back to the room and Lance slides his phone back in his pocket. He walks in casually, something white dragging behind him. Lance gets a closer look and he is caught between laughing and shouting. The nerve of some people.

“Wow.” Lance says, leaning back into the sofa, dragging out the word in exasperation.

Keith shrugs, his mouth curving at the corners. “Don’t hate.”

Don’t hate? Is he serious?

Of course, Keith comes back with a Japanese national team jersey _and_ a whole ass Japan flag spread around his shoulders. Talk about petty.

“You for Colombia?” Keith says, crossing his arms across his chest. His shoulder leans against the threshold to the hallway and Lance briefly wonders if he got taller.

And bigger.

Lance straightens up. “Uh, Yeah.” Lance curls his middle fingers into his palm and waves them in the air. “It’s Latino gang, bitch.”

Keith snorts and pushes himself off the wall. “Well, I’m half Japanese, so in this house, we cheer for Japan.”

Lance sighs in regret and pretends to get up. “Damn, okay. Well, it was nice seeing you.”

Keith is right there and shoves him back down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

Lance plops back down, binding his fingers behind his neck, a grin threatening to spread across his own mouth. Not even thirty minutes in and he has made Keith laugh.

Keith walks to the kitchen, his flag billowing behind him. What a nerd. Lance's eyes follow him, amused besides himself. For the longest time, Lance thought he had Keith pegged. He was just another arrogant, attention hoe of a striker. Yet, he apparently was more than that. He mentored the younger players. The type of teammate that quietly leads. He’s seen it with his own eyes during pre-season friendlies and league games. Something about that was insanely attractive to Lance.

His heart slowly turns in his chest. _Chill_ , he tells it.

“You want some water or anything?” Keith calls from the kitchen and Lance answers yes, because he is kind of feeling a little parched. _You thirsty for something, that’s for sure_ , Allura snickers in his head.

He makes a mental reminder to FaceTime her later and curses her out for this. Even in his thoughts, he cannot get some peace.

“Sure.”

He exhales and tries to get comfortable. While Keith out his line of sight, he’s able to take in the rest of the apartment. There are photos on the wall and Lance being nosy gets up from his seat and slowly makes his way to the frames.

Most of the photos were of Keith and another older boy. They both have dark hair and eyes. Keith is hanging off his shoulder, shooting a toothless grin at the camera. It’s probably his older brother. Lance has got glimpses of him here and there throughout the years of playing ball in the same league as Keith.

There are other pictures some with his parents, baby pictures of Keith being held by his mother. He had really chubby, pink cheeks and ink-dark hair cut like a bowl. Dork.

Lance feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Keith was a cute baby. Lance imagined he would have come out the womb frowning but he was a happy baby. Aw. He moves to pull his phone out to snap a picture. This is prime roast material.

“Don’t even think about it.” Keith whispers in his ear, from out of nowhere. The sudden warmth in his ear made him shiver. Yet, the more violent reaction was more embarrassing.

Lance screeches, jumping in place and twisting to see Keith, standing right behind him, the corner of his lips twitching a little.

“You good?” Keith says, his eyes wide and a threat of laughter making his voice quaver.

Lance grabs the water bottle from his hand and shoves past him. “No, you asshole. Maybe, next time don’t sneak attack me.” He pauses, an awful realization coming to him. He backtracks. “Hold up.”

He steps closer to Keith and stands directly in front of him. He examines him up and down, and Keith just stands there, his eyes following Lance silently. He smells nice.

“What?” Keith says. He’s looking down at Lance. It’s only by a little, almost minuscule, but he’s looking down. Which means Keith did get taller. He had his suspicion but now, it was confirmed. Lance resists the urge to hit his head against Keith’s chest. How was this fair. His height was the one thing Lance had over Keith and now that’s been taken away.

“What the fuck?” Lance whispers, his eyes narrowed at the other boy. Who grows over an inch within a few months? “How are you taller than me?”

Keith’s blinks at him for a moment, and he glances down at his legs then back up at Lance. He covers his mouth with his fist. A non-subtle way of hiding that budding grin that is just begging to spread over his face. Lance wants to smack his hand away.

“Not sure?” His eyes were dancing. It wasn’t like Lance has teased Keith about it since their freshman year. “I like it, though.”

Of course he likes it.

“Life isn’t fair.” Lance mumbles, stalking back to his seat. He shakes his head.

“Don’t be mad.” Keith laughs from behind him, “it’s not my fault I got bigger.”

“You didn’t get bigger,” Lance snarks back, feeling his cheeks burn at the phrasing. Even though he did. And Lance had to process that information later. “Just taller.”

Keith follows him to the couch and sits right next to him –– even though there was open space on his ridiculously large couch. However, this was his place and Lance wasn’t going to tell him to move. Keith stretches out his legs and his knee knocks into Lance’s. Lance glances at him, but he is unfazed.

Lance waits exactly three seconds to see if he would move it. It stayed. Lance could actually start a fire with the amount of heat being disseminated to that spot on his knee. About almost all of his brain cells are focusing on the fact that Keith is touching him.

“I’m pretty sure I did. I can probably knock you off your feet even easier now.” Was that teasing Lance caught in Keith’s voice?

Lance sucks in a breath. He turns to Keith, trying to not focus on the fact that there is an increase in skin contact with the move. Lance points a finger at him.

“First of all, just because I’m not built like some other players does not mean I’m easy to knock down.” Lance is toned. Look at Neymar Jr., he wasn’t the buffest guy on the team but he was still killing it.

“So…” Keith says, tilting his head towards Lance. “Is that your way of telling me you think I’m built?”

Lance mouth clicks shut.

Shit.

Lance shifts back to the way he was sitting and refuses to answer.

“Is that a yes?” Definitely teasing.

Lance grits his teeth to stop himself from screaming: _yeah, you look fit as hell and I kind of want you to do me. Been wanting you to do me. And kiss me. And just date me in general??_

He can’t exactly say that though. He feels Keith’s gaze on him and there his body goes again, flushing at the attention. See, if Lance wasn’t a smart guy, he would think that Keith was flirting with him. Which was ridiculous. Keith Kogane does not flirt. He is the king of judgemental side-eyes next to Lance. Zero flirtation present.

Lance keeps his eyes on the screen. “Turn on the game, Kogane.”

Keith laughs under his breath-- _what was going on_ \-- and changes the channel to FOX Sports. There were only a few minutes left before the game was to start. Thank God. He needs something else to focus on.

The players sing their national anthem and Lance leans in and rests his elbows on his knees. He could get lost in this and forget about Keith being there.

Coin toss and it's Japan's ball. The whistle blows.

It’s game time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a term called megged, it means when a player kicks the ball in between the feet of a defender. keith is super cool and lance is s h o o k (not really though)
> 
> ~~~~~ the fluff~~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith watch the Colombia v Japan game + a throwback scene + feelings ~~~~~

Lance is shook.

Three minutes into the game and there was already a penalty kick. Lance rubs his temple, shaking his head. The playback confirms that that was, in fact, a handball and the player, Carlos Sanchez, deserved a red card. Meaning Sanchez only got three minutes of playing time at FIFA and is banned from playing the next game. Hopefully, Colombia advances to the knockout stage aka the Group of 16. However, who knows what can happen since everyone in their bracket seems strong.

Lance won’t tell Keith this, but Japan has a good shot of winning now, especially since Colombia is only playing with ten men instead of eleven.

The guy knew he messed up too. He falls on his back on the pitch and doesn’t bother getting up for a moment while the referee blows the whistle. He must feel like his entire world is ending. How could he be so stupid? Lance feels for him, though.

“Damn,” Keith grimaces, “It’s gotta suck being that guy.”

After working so hard to qualify, he gets a red card three minutes into the game. Already players are wildin'.

Lance glances over at him, and Keith is shaking his head as well.

“For real.”

Japan gets a penalty kick, and they make the point. Lance buries his hair in his hands.

 

⚽⚽⚽

 

“Please. Please. Please” Lance says, his voice hiking up. He knows he is loud and probably showing a side of himself Keith shouldn’t see, but he cannot help it. This was the moment of truth. He rises out of his seat as the ball is bolted towards the goal, easily gliding between the feet of the players. It keeps going and gets closer and closer to the keeper. He walks closer to the TV, holding his head in his hands. 

“ _Oh my god- yes. YES. YES_ ” Lance says shrilly, as the ball goes past the goal line and into safety. Colombia just made its comeback, baby. “ _Gooooooooolllllllll”_ Lance screams, running circles around the kitchen and living room.

“No!” Keith shouts from behind him, “Did that even go in? The goalie was right there!”

“Yes, it did!” Lance shouts, dancing in place, “Suck it, Kogane!” He has a very sudden urge to salsa dance. Hell yes.

“That was lucky,” Keith grumbles, after seeing the goal was legit. “The goalie almost had it.”

“But he didn’t!” Lance crows.

“Sit down.” Keith tries to say seriously. However, any seriousness he might have tried to show was betrayed by the way the corner of his mouth twitches. Yeah, Lance might look ridiculous as he jumps around dancing but he does not care.

“Don’t get too excited. Japan will come through.” Keith rolls his shoulders, getting more comfortable in his seat. The flag wraps around his form, almost like it was protecting him, infusing him with confidence. He hopes that confidence is misplaced.

 

⚽⚽⚽

 

The second half was brutal. However, for most games, it always is like that. The players get a feel for what the other team plays. There is more pressure, too. Although, the score is equalized but there is still time for one of them to score. Hopefully, they are rejuvenated to have some more accuracy. Their goalie was an angel, and Lance would probably marry him. Lance always had a thing for goalies.

Lance glances at Keith, who was sitting with a leg tucked underneath him. His lower lip pulled in between his straight, white teeth.

Or, strikers.

Keith curses at the screen, and Lance takes his gaze off him. _Focus on the game_ , Lance.

Throughout the game, they both talk in half completed sentences.  Their voices rise as Japan gets closer to the goal. Lance is screaming no. Keith is shouting go.

The whole area in the box has a lot of bodies in it, and the ball was difficult to track. He was sure the goalie, Ochoa, was having a fun time right about now. He sends a prayer to the futbol gods to not let anything happen. To let Japan, go back on the defense.

A cross leads the ball to an open player, and he kicks sharply to the goal. Lance follows the ball's trajectory with bated breath. The ball barely misses the net. Lance feels life coming back into his body.

Keith, on the other hand, is losing it. “Fuck. Come on, you almost had it! Keep going--”

What happens next is a blur. A corner kick and Osako headers it in at the ‘73 minute. Any hope that Lance had for Colombia slowly crumbles as he watches a point get added for Japan.  Keith jumps up from his seat and he is throwing a fisted hand up in the air.

“Yes!” He shouts. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He runs closer to the TV, watching the replay in fascination.

Lance shakes his head. In almost a whisper, he says to the TV, “What the fuck.”

"Oh my god,” Keith says, a grin overtaking his face. He whips around to face Lance, his flag flowing behind him like a cape. If Lance weren’t so annoyed they scored, he would have taken the time to notice that he was acting pretty adorable.  “You gotta admit, that was awesome.”

“I ain’t admitting to shit,” Lance says, swiping the chips from the table and munches on them harshly.

Lance sends him a scathing glance, but Keith is not fazed. Lance wants to kick him in the throat. He catches Lance shooting death daggers at him, and he shrugs innocently.

“What were you saying earlier?” Again, with the teasing. “Told you Japan would come through.

“Shut up.” Lance retorts. “They still have time.”

“Sure.”

They don’t score. Colombia loses by a point. Lance wrestles the flag over Keith’s face, so he didn’t have to see that smug, happy look on his face.

At least the game was over now. Now, Lance feels like he can breath. Lance feels so disappointed for Colombia, and it wasn’t even for his country. Lance figures the day Cuba makes it to FIFA, Lance’s heart might give out for the anxiety.

“Can you imagine playing at FIFA?” Lance asks. It was only natural to wonder since they both played the game. The stadium filled crowds, hailing from all over the world. Faces painted, flags billowing in the wind, all there to see you play. Lance can’t even imagine the weight on everyone’s shoulders as they walk in to meet their fates.

“I would probably shit myself,” Keith says with an airy laugh.

“Same,” Lance chuckles. He’s getting chills just thinking about it. He leans back against the couch. “It’s my favorite cup to watch. It would be amazing to be able to play in it but fucking terrifying.”

“Do you want to go pro?” Keith asks.

Lance snorts lowly as if he’s anywhere near the level to play professionally. The thought occurred to him, but he’s also realistic.

“I mean it would be cool? But not likely. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game, but I have other plans to get into the sport.”

“How?”

“I’m majoring in international business with a minor in sports management.” Whenever he says it, he always sounds like he’s got his stuff together. It gives him a rush of confidence. _Why yes, I am an adult who has plans for the future._ When in reality, he’s pretty much a mess.

Lance nearly pulled out his hair in the process of adding a minor because it was all very confusing but it eventually worked out.

“Hopefully, I can work for an international league one day.” The Major League of Soccer in the US wasn’t exactly his move. Did anybody outside the U.S watch MLS anyway? To be real, did people in the U.S. even watch MLS?

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat. It sounded like a mixture of surprise and something else. Whatever it was it made Lance glance over. “That is pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” Lance says, his stomach buzzing at the compliment. “What about you?”

“It’s a no for me too.” Keith stretches out his legs. “I’m going to grad school. Planning on being an architect.”

 _Yass_ , Allura snaps her fingers in his mind.   _Beauty and brains._

Although he hates to admit Allura being right, this was true. So, on top of being an amazing athlete, he is intelligent and could draw. If Lance finds out he can dance too, then his clothes were coming off right then and there.

“Mess around and build the next FIFA stadium,” Lance says, impressed.

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith says, laughing along with Lance.

“Did you design those yourself then?” He extends his chin to point at Keith’s arm, where there was a band of ink encircling the skin nearing his bicep. Lance knew he was tatted since he has gotten peeks of it here and there during matches when he stretches. One day, he actually got to see it all. 

Sometimes, teams meet up to play scrimmages. Nothing serious, nothing official, but fun nonetheless. Attire usually called for pinnies with solid colors since they had to differentiate who is on who’s team. It was a random day during summer break when they all decided to have a scrimmage game.

Since that day was warm, some of the players forego wearing an undershirt and go shirtless underneath. Lance didn’t but he was more than happy to take all of it in. 

Keith, on the other hand, had decided to go bare underneath as well. Lance still gets chest pains from the memory of it.

 

 

> **Summer 2017**
> 
> _Lance takes a quick glance at himself in the mirror. He has played two short games already and his whole body was buzzing. The season just ended but he still is up to play, even if his legs low-key ache. Playing with Marmora always was a fun and brutal time._  
> 
> _Especially if Keith ‘Ankle Breaker’ Kogane is present. Lance has got to give credit where credit is due. When Keith is on a mission to the goal, he is wicked fast. The way he can navigate himself through defenders and maintain control of the ball at the level of speed he was going in was really impressive. Sexy, too. Unfortunately._
> 
> _Lance pushes his hair out of his face, not caring if it’s all spiky at this point. He exits and takes a very long pull of water as he makes his way back to the field. A few of them had pulled together to manage a pick-up game against the Marmora University team. It was pretty casual, they all were free on a random Thursday morning so they met up at UA field. Everything was going normal. Lance was trying not hard to pay attention to one player in particular. However, with his shitty luck and lack of self-control, it doesn’t last long._
> 
> _Because there he was. Booking it down the field. Towards Lance. Or, rather the goal. But Lance was near the goalpost and he was coming, full speed ahead._
> 
> _With no shirt underneath. He had a shirt on underneath earlier, right? Lances legs decide they don’t want to move anymore so he’s just standing there, slowly losing oxygen. He feels his heart thud in his ears and the only coherent thought entering his brain was: oh, fuck me._
> 
> _First of all: how can someone look that good while running? Lance himself looks like he’s running from death. Thin cheeks flapping away in the wind and eyes wide as saucers. Allura always told him his face while running was the personification the word ‘yeet.” Nothing like Keith who looked fierce and confident._
> 
> _He wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed when a fierce rush of pain courses through his chest. He lets out a choked gasp and then he’s doubled over, falling only to balance on a bent knee. Fuck that hurts. He inhales and exhales carefully. Forget it, he thinks, as he lets himself flop on the ground. He rubs his chest. This is what he gets for focusing on Keith. Literally one second after he tells himself to ignore him, this happens._
> 
> _Getting hit by a ball wasn’t something rare as player but it still stings like hell. That’s going to leave a mark, yes sir. He hears the footsteps of someone walking towards him. A pair of feet come to his side before they carefully crouch. Let it be Luis, he thinks. Please let it be Luis. Lance squints up at the person, and he takes in lots of skin before his eyes find their face. The world is unfair so if it could just swallow him, Lance would call it even._
> 
> _“Lance,” Keith asks, sounding a little breathless. “Are you okay?_
> 
> _Skin. There was so much skin. Pale skin and skin marked with ink. Pretty, pretty skin._
> 
> _Sidenote, if Lance was brave enough to look, he could probably get a glimpse of Keith’s nipple. What was wrong with him. Stop thinking like this, he tells himself. Lance. Stop it._
> 
> _He can hear his teammates hollering from yards away. Lance hates them. He also hates Keith._
> 
> _Lance grits his teeth. “Peachy.”_
> 
> _“Are you sure?” Keith lowers himself and rests his knees on the field, and gets a closer look at the utter mess that was Lance. He wasn’t even looking at Lance though, his eyes trained on Lance’s chest to his abdomen and back up to his eyes._
> 
> _His fingers brush Lance’s shoulder before they slide down to brush over Lance’s chest. “Does it hurt?”_
> 
> _“What do you think?” Lance snaps._
> 
> _Keith’s brows knit together and he opens his mouth before he visibly deflates._
> 
> _“The ball hit the post and just catapulted to you.” Keith slowly explains, biting his lower lip. Lance catches a hint of guilt swimming in his eyes before Keith breaks eye contact._
> 
> _Keith scratches the back of his neck, and Lance takes a moment to take in Keith’s dark, matted hair, and his flushed cheeks. He has really long eyelashes, too. They’re thick and curl up just so slightly and they really, really bring out his eyes._
> 
> _“Or,” Lance says pointedly, “someone has it out for me.”_
> 
> _Keith huffs. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”_
> 
> _Lance hums, unconvinced. These days, he wasn’t so sure._
> 
> _Lance flicks a glance at him. “I don’t know, Kogane. Maybe you're trying to mess me up so I don’t play next season.”_
> 
> _Keith huffs in bemusement. “What? I like playing against you, so why would I do that?”_
> 
> _The retort that he had planned falls dead at the tip of his tongue. Well. He wasn’t really expecting that. Lance blinks at Keith and Keith simply watches him, looking more amused at Lance’s confusion than he has any right to be._
> 
> _What in the world._
> 
> _“Anyways, why were you even there?”  Keith asks, tilting his head. “You know saying behind near the net is a danger zone.”_
> 
> _Lance feels his cheeks flush. Tell him about it. Not just for his body, but his dumb heart.  “None of your business.”_
> 
> _“Anyways, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”_
> 
> _Keith stands up and outstretches a hand for Lance. Lance takes it, thinking of the other dozens of times that they’ve clasped hands to pick up the other during a game. It was all in good sportsmanship but this time, his arm feels a thin zip of electricity travels from his fingers to his shoulder. That does not feel right._
> 
> _“It’s all good.” Lance says, brushing off any grass from his legs._
> 
> _“So, you’re okay?”_
> 
> _Lance looks up to Keith examining him, his dark eyes sliding from Lance’s chest to his legs. Keith's worry was a little too endearing._
> 
> _“Yeah, man,” Lance says, waving his hand. “Been through worse.”_
> 
> _Keith nods at him, having gone through some of his own fair sure of hits in the game. He squeezes Lance's shoulder before he jogs back to the field where the game he was in was still in play._
> 
> _When Lance makes his way back to team, they of course began to rib him. Lance lets it all roll off his back. It didn’t really matter anyway. He’s learned his lesson._
> 
> _Luis pokes him with the tip of his cleats. “Distracted, were you?”_
> 
> _Lance glances at the other boy, and narrows his eyes. Luis just gives him an impish grin. Luis is a type of person that peeps things from miles away. He takes great pride in knowing everyone’s tea in the team even if they don’t want him to know. He wasn’t a gossip, like Hunk, but he just always knew shit._
> 
> _Luis brown eyes trail deliberately over to where Keith was before raising an eyebrow at Lance. Of course._
> 
> _“Shut up,” Lance grumbles, taking another swing of water. He was just recovering. Barely._  

Looking back, that was probably the day that Lance’s feelings— ugh, he hates even thinking of the word— for Keith really began. Everything that followed then— the teasing from Allura, the random compliments from Keith, only made it worse. Honestly, it’s only been downhill since.

Keith glances down at his arm and nods. “A few of them.” Lance wants to ask what they mean or if they have any meaning behind them but decides to hold off.

They spend the next thirty or so minutes talking about school and their thoughts on graduating soon. How their practice sessions were. The rest of FIFA.  It wasn’t anything major or personal, but it was nice.

Lance was getting a little bit of an idea who he was Keith was. He’s a guy that can draw, likes eating plain donuts with cold milk and has a childlike happiness about futbol like Lance.

It makes Lance want to get to know him better. However, how to go about that is beyond him.

“It’s not as fun watching it alone, so thanks for letting me stick around,” Lance says as he gets up from his seat to stretch. He rifles through different ways he can ask how they can hang out again. He feels like palms spiking with heat at the thought of fumbling through the question: _Hey, Keith, buddy are you down to like… be my friend?_

Lame.

“Yeah.” Keith nods. “Um, well I had fun too so no worries.”

He was looking down at his feet, and Lance waits for a beat, staying silent as well. If he leaves now, who knows if he’ll get to see Keith again. 

Keith clears his throat. “Actually...I’m down to do this again...if you are?” He glances up at Lance, his eyes not meeting Lance for long before they drift over his shoulder. “It does suck watching it alone.” Bless up.

Two thoughts enter his mind: One being: _YES, I AM._

Two, being: where his brother was and why he didn’t watch it with him? He stays quiet though. He wasn’t going to shoot himself in the foot. Keith was asking Lance to hang out.

“Yeah, I’m down,” Lance says casually.

“Cool. What’s your number?” Keith pulls out his phone and Lance recites it back to him. A few seconds later his phone buzzes in his pocket. So, he has Keith’s number. Keith has his.  

“Just text me.”

“Okay.”

Lance goes down the stairs not believing what had just happened. He bites his lower lip. A grin tugs at his mouth but he waits until he’s inside his car to let it escape.

“Holy shit,” Lance whispers, a bubble of laughter escaping him. He rests his head against the wheel. Summer 2018 might not be so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura says hi, Keith and Lance barely watch the Mexico v. South Korea game together and bonding moments take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the sweet comments and kudos. It definitely makes me happy that there are people out there enjoying my work. This one is kind of long, almost 7k so I hope you guys enjoy. There is a lot happening.
> 
> Something I wanted to mention:  
> Nonspoiler:  
> There are a ton of positions in futbol/soccer like midfielders/centerbacks/ midfielders+fowards. Meaning there are players that have dual or positions they switch with depending on certain games. For the sake of this story, Lance is a typically a midfielder and Keith is a forward. Also, the opinions of the characters is solely theirs. Please dont come for me about what they think. 
> 
> *Spoiler*  
> Lance mentions pronouns in the scene where he and Keith are watching the game. He wants Keith to drop a "he" pronoun because of his personal desire to want Keith to be into him. No shade against non-binary folks. 
> 
> I really hope I didn't offend anyone but please let me know if there was something that did and I can fix it <3

Despite Lance’s bad luck with anything five miles radius of romance, Lance and Keith actually do text each other. Yeah. He was surprised too.  

It was kind of sad that he was sort of expecting to get ghosted. People exchange numbers all the time and the only conversation that takes place is the initial “it’s me.” Yet, with Keith, there were _actual_ conversations. Words are being sent and Lance is looking forward to those words. He is living by three little bouncing dots at this point. Because texting Keith was fun even if it didn’t start of seamlessly.

Nothing ever really does. If he thought it was difficult to strike up a conversation with Keith in person, it was even more daunting in text. Everyone knows that it’s sort of awkward when you start texting someone you never text before. Then there is the added pressure when its someone you want to keep texting. Someone you have feelings for. What was _appropriate_? Can he throw in a gif? How many emoji’s was too much emoji’s? How many text messages until date?

However, after day three of them texting back to back, Lance got over it. He told himself to jump outside of his comfort zone -- aka talking only about FIFA-- and asking Keith how his day went.  Thankfully, Keith went with it, and slowly they started began to talk about other things. Keith asks him how his summer classes were. Lance asks him how his summer training was going. It was all good and normal and chill. Less awkward as the days go by. On day five (this morning), Keith did something that attests to that. Something he had not done before. Something that left Lance’s heart stuttering.

 **Keith** [ 7:04 a. m.]

>good morning

Lance blinks twice, making sure none of that filmy, goo from sleep was messing with his vision. He looks and looks back up at the top of his phone screen to see if he does, in fact, have the right person texting him.

 **Keith**.

Lance stares at the name than the two words, not quite believing that Keith sent him a good morning text. He bites his lip, barely containing the squeal that wants to escape him. He dives underneath his pillow and flops around on his bed like an idiot. His bedsheets wrap around his legs as he kicks his legs against the bed. Was this real?

Keith woke up and one of the first things he did is text Lance good morning. Lance has the right to be a little happy about that.

 **Lance** [7:30 a.m.]

> good morning :)

The squeal does escape and it melts into small giggles. Just like that, his day was made.

⚽⚽⚽

The following day, Lance decides he has to talk to Allura.

Lance examines his face as he waits for Allura to pick up his FaceTime call. His skin has seen better days. He exhales resignedly and stares up at the ceiling instead. The low ring of FT lulls him into thought. Of course, the first thought that pops up is a certain futbol player.

It has been nearly a week since the whole Keith Incident™. Tomorrow will mark the week. Which Lance is still trying to wrap his head around. Like… that actually happened. Lance and Keith hung out. Then yesterday, Keith texted him good morning for the first time. And then good night later on. And then good morning this morning. Lance goes to bed cheesing and wakes up in anticipation. It’s crazy.

He thought Allura would blow up his phone after the game last week but she was quiet. Probably biding her time before she goes in on him. Allura, for all her teasing, is someone that loves, love. Funny for someone that refuses to wholeheartedly enter the dating game.

Lance had meant to message her about her little scheme, all prepared to cuss her out while silently thanking her. However, later that day, Lance ended up coming home, eating the pesto penne pasta Hunk had made the previous night and then knocked out for a nap.

It then got pushed away from the forefront of his mind, especially since his irritation at her dwindles when he remembers that he and Keith text each other.

His phone hums, letting him know that the video connected. It wasn’t so good at first, Allura’s face coming out a pixelated but after a moment, it clears out. She’s on her bed, hair tied up and wearing her reading glasses, the nerd.

“You’re such a nerd,” Lance snorts.

“I’m trying to live my best life, okay?” Allura brings the camera closer to her grey eyes and narrows them. “It’s been hell here. I am actually cooking. It’s like 120 degrees, Lance.” She points at her forehead. “I get sweat beads now. Just from sitting down. I never sweated so much in my life”.

“Yikes.” Lance says. “Don’t you have air conditioning?” He knows she doesn’t. All she does is send him snapchats of the temperature and selfies with blank, dead eyes.

Allura sends him slits. “I hate you.” Then she adds, “I wish we were together doing a spa night. It’s not the same when you do it yourself.” Meaning, she is lazy and wants to do one but not by herself.

“Well, I’m down to do one anyway. FaceTime exists for a reason.”

Allura perks up. “Really?”

Lance nods, a smile stretching on his mouth. Allura hops out of her bed, exposing her short clad legs. He notices she has one thin sheet on her bed decorated with little stars on it. California heat was bad, yeah, but east coast was worse.

He goes to wash his face and grabs his own material in the meantime. He definitely needs to do a clay mask because this heat and his oily skin is not cute. It has nothing to do with the fact that he _might_ see Keith tomorrow. Keith who still hasn’t confirmed with him that Lance will come over.  Lance sure as hell wasn't going to ask. At least not until 9 pm. Lance glances at the time. It was 5 p.m. Keith better text.

Allura comes back with her large bag of skin care products and plops back down on her bed, her face clean as well.

“So, how has your week been?”

Lance mixes the clay mask and apple cider vinegar, enjoying the small _hiss_ that comes with the contact.

“It’s been good so far.” He thinks of the messages he and Keith have traded back and forth. Lance has been getting brave about asking how Keith’s day was and all of that stupid “getting to know you through text” stuff.  It gives him aneurysms, honestly.

“Hold on, I’m going to switch you to my laptop my phone is gonna die soon.” Lance doesn’t like it when his phone battery hits 20%, to him that was a second away from death. He’s been traumatized after it died on his way from a concert. No Uber, no Lyft just a good old Taxi cab that robbed him of all the money in his checking’s. He deadass cried. He grabs it and ends the phone FT then goes to charge it near his nightstand. He rings her back up on his computer and picks up where he left off.

“Okay, soooo. Yeah. My Marketing and Social Aspects of Sports class is really interesting and I think I’m going to end up with an A in the class.” Lance wasn’t too worried about it but since it was summer session, it was going by a lot faster than normal. UA is semester based and right now, it’s like quarter system on drugs. Lance, by the grace of God, was keeping up.

“Yay!”

“Yeah, like the Professor makes it so fun to learn. Which who can make sports boring?”

There was a brief pause before they both locked eyes and said at the same time, “Slav.” They erupt in laughter, no doubt memories of the two of them struggling to stay up in a GE Kinesiology class still fresh in their minds.

Their laughter dies down and Lance waits a few minutes before he drops the news. Potential news.

“So, I think Coach is planning on making me captain?” Luis has been giving him nudges and the Coach has him leading group runs and taking his advice for plays. Which all in all was nothing, but it was exciting at least. It was his fourth year and it _would_ make sense.

Allura shouts, and she was staring at him with wide, bright eyes. “Lance! That is amazing!”

“Yeah,” he grins, feeling that it was all surreal. “Nothing is official yet but I’m getting hints. I don’t know I might be overthinking it.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

Allura waves her hand dismissively. “You’re the best choice for it. We both know this.”

“Thanks.” His heart squeezing at the absolute confidence she has in him. “How about you? How has your week been so far?”

“It’s been crazy but in a good way,” Allura says as she tweezes her brows. Lance watches in fascination as she doesn’t even flinch. Lance tweezes his brows too but he always ends up tearing up. Those hairs are rooted in deep and his eyes are sensitive so excuse him.

Allura tells him about her assignments as she analyzes reports and trends in human rights and attending meetings. She’s been given the opportunity to shadow some folks in different departments too. It’s pretty cool that she’s getting really hands-on and Lance is so excited for her. Allura was definitely a force to be reckoned with and this opportunity will open so many doors for her. The knowledge of how successful his friends are makes him nearly burst with pride. Like his friends are killin’ it.

“I’m learning so much, Lance it’s incredible. And there is another intern named Leah who is just the sweetest…” She tells him about why she adores her when his phone goes off with a notification. He looks over at it but was too lazy so he opens up the iMessage application on his laptop.

 **Keith** [5:30 p.m.]

>hey. Are you still coming over tomorrow?

Lance blinks. Was he _still_ coming over tomorrow? Okay, Keith. Here Lance was, anticipating a formal invitation to come over but the entire time Keith just expected him to show up? Like some heathen? Lance’s parents taught him some shame. Lance knows he should feel a little more irritated than he does but he feels the grin tug at his lips as he reads the words again. So, he guesses he will be seeing Keith tomorrow.

 **Lance** [5.34 p.m.]

> yeah, if you still want me

Wait. Did that sound dirty? Lance rereads it and decided that it is a hint of dirtiness so he adds:

 **Lance** [5:34 p.m.]

> to come over that it is

His laptop pings back quickly. So, does his phone. He lowers down the volume.

 **Keith** [5:35 p.m.]

> yeah, of course

Lance’s stomach dips at the words. God, it was too easy for Keith to have this kind of impact on him when he wasn’t even there.

“What are you smiling at?”

Shit.

Lance looks back up at the camera, and Allura was looking at him with a raised brow. After the tweezing, they look even more menacing.

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh,” Allura says, as she gets up. She’s probably heading to the bathroom to wash her hands and set her face mask on. He has probably a minute before she comes back. Lance quickly replies.

 **Lance** [5:36 p.m.]

> then I’ll see you tomorrow

 **Keith** [5:36 p.m.]

>okay

 **Lance** [5:37 p.m.]

>btw make sure to have some tissues on hand when México whoops ass

 **Keith** [5:37 p.m.]

>nah. I’ll make sure to leave some for you though

>cause it’s not happening

Lance snorts.

“Okay, seriously,” Allura says and Lance jumps at the sudden words and the sight of her. She has her white sheet mask on and her eyes were barely visible. How long had she been there?

“What?” He hoped he didn’t sound too defensive.

“Who are you texting?”

“No one.”

“Liar.”

“Seriously.”

“Is that why you’ve been smiling for the past minute? For no one?” She loves asking rhetorical questions.

“Were you watching me?” He accuses.

“No, I can hear your smiling from the bathroom.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course, I was. I knew something was up.” She was really too observant for her own good. She pauses before her eyes widen. Lance can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Lance prepares himself.

“Oh my gosh…” Her voice dips low, almost hushed. “Were you messaging Keith?” She had both her hands tucked underneath her chin, her lips curving at the corner.

“No.” He averts his gaze and he knew he gave himself away.

“You were!” She points at him and gasps gleefully. “You were texting Keith!”

“No, I wasn’t!” Lance protests but it is futile. He feels his cheeks flame up.

The notification from both devices goes off again.

“…. Okay. Maybe I was.”

She gets comfortable on her bed. “Tell me everything.”

“There isn’t much to tell.” Lance grumbles, wishing he had more to tell her. They exchanged numbers and made plans and Lance would be an idiot to get his hopes up.

Unwillingly, Lance thinks of that one Twitter meme he saw ages ago, of the black man behind the podium, ready to share his story even when he said five seconds ago it was nothing to share about. Lance is that man. That man is Lance.

And Lance, like the weak person he was, who really wants to talk about the boy he likes, tells her. He tells her about Keith’s place and his Japan flag and his really soft, cute smile. How he texted him good morning. Allura coos and grins at all the appropriate times and it honestly just gets Lance more enthusiastic.

He saves the best part of the day for last. When he tells her about Keith’s comment on being built, Allura does end up squealing this time around. He asks the question that has been nibbling at the back of his mind. Allura was smart she would know.

“He was flirting with you.” Allura answers flatly. The _are you kidding me_ in her tone was very much evident. “You do realize that, right?”

Lance isn’t so sure. “I think he was making fun of me.” Lance crosses his arms across his chest. “You know he’s taller than me now?”

Allura laughs so hard she rips a part of her face mask.

⚽⚽⚽

When Lance knocks on Keith’s door the following morning, he is decked out in a Méxican jersey and has the Méxican flag wrapped around his shoulders. Luis, the goat, let him borrow it. Keith’s gotta know that he can be just as petty as him. In fact, it’s petty limbo in this bitch. Lance has zero shame.

Before Keith, Lance has never really watched a FIFA Cup with someone that almost always is rooting for the opposite team. He was always with family and their whole motto was root for the Latin American team. Then after that, it was basically rooting for the underdog of each match.

South Korea was cool and all, but Lance won’t be caught dead rooting for them if they’re playing against México. His mother might suffer a heart attack all the way in Miami. It makes sense that Keith is rooting for any team from Asia. Lance gets it. But it doesn’t mean that Lance isn’t going to let him know where he stands.

When the door opens, Lance grins widely at him.

Keith is in a grey shirt and a pair of loose tiro pants. The white stripes of Adidas reaching his knee before the cloth tightens a little around his calves. Lance has never seen someone make loungewear look so appealing before.

“Viva la México,” Lance sings, telling himself to focus at the task at hand. He waves the flag behind himself as he jumps side to side, laughing at the sour expression on Keith’s face.

Lance is undeterred and he waves the flag in Keith’s face and Keith flinches away as he tries to block Lance.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s Latino gang, Keith.” Lance says, “Get with the program.”

“Uh. No thanks.” Keith says, backing further away from Lance. Can’t have that. He promptly tries to shut the door in his face. Lance shoulders his way in, laughter overtaking him. His shoulder brushes Keith’s chest. _Wow_ , he thinks. Someone has been eating right.

“Don’t hate,” He mocks, repeating back the words Keith had said to him.

“You’re ridiculous.” Keith shakes his head as Lance struts to the couch and delicately sits down fanning out the flag behind him.

“You do clownery and the clown comes back to bite.”

“You know you don’t make sense when you say those things in real life right?” Keith says dryly.

Lance squawks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, _you_ don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keith thinks that memes are weird because he doesn’t understand them. But Lance will slowly convert him. He has a 99% success rate and Lance won’t give up until Keith can understand what he is missing out on.

Once again, Keith takes a seat next to Lance. _Again_ , he’s sitting closer than strictly necessary but Lance wasn’t going to be the one to point it out. Nope. Keith turns on the game and Lance makes himself comfortable trying to not think too hard about how nice Keith smelled.   

⚽⚽⚽             

It’s decided.

“Ochoa is actually husband material,” Lance says out loud. How many goals has he blocked now? Lance watches as the goalie clutches the ball close to his chest. Lance is pretty sure he’s whispering, “I got you, baby” to it. Lance is pretty sure heart eyes are coming out him.

Keith, who was taking a sip of water, seems to choke on it. He coughs, bowing his head.

Lance slaps his back, not taking his eyes off the gorgeous goalie with pretty, brown curls and the human epitome of a brick wall. Nothing was getting past him. Is it weird that Lance is turned on?

“ _What_?”

Did Lance say that last part out loud? Whoops.

“I’m just saying I need someone that protects me like he protects that goal.” Lance rests his right elbow on his right knee and points a finger at the screen. “Like, that is ridiculously attractive.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice still sounds scratchy from his minor coughing episode. This FIFA cup will be the end of them both.

Lance feels Keith shuffles in his seat and tries to pay him no mind but it is difficult. He keeps moving.

“So….” Keith says, “You’re into guys?”

Lance looks over at Keith, who has his gaze bouncing from Lance to his hands that were hidden underneath the hem of his shirt. A half smile tugs at Lance’s lips. Keith sounds so hesitant like he was trying to not offend Lance. Cute.

“I mean I got eyes. Don’t need to be into guys to see that,” Lance laughs, wanting to make that was clear. He hates when straight guys always say, ‘I’m not gay’ whenever he asks for their opinion on the hotness of another male. It wasn’t often he does but in situations like this, for example. Like, both parties know the guy is hot. Let’s acknowledge it and move on. Not that he knows whether or not Keith was straight. _Please don’t be straight,_ he prays.

“Yeah,” Keith says lowly. Then, he clears his throat. “Yeah. Of course. I was just— never mind I shouldn’t have asked.” Keith clamps his mouth shut, his cheeks stained pink.

Lance knocks his shoulder into Keith’s. Lance knew he didn’t mean it like that. Besides, the two of them were on their way to being friends. Were they friends now? They cannot not be friends. _Yes_ , he decides in that moment, _we are friends._ It gives him the confidence to share the next bit of information.

“No, you’re good. But yeah. I am.”

“Huh?”

“I like girls but I’m into guys too.” Lance turns to him. He gives Keith a cheeky grin. “Goalies. Clearly.”

“Oh.” His voice was soft but it didn’t give much away.

Lance nods, hoping he didn’t freak him out. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him and when he was brave enough to look, they were bright with something Lance couldn’t quite tell. At least he didn’t _look_ freaked out. Lance wishes he could read Keith better. They need to hang out more.  His body language didn’t change to discomfort, if anything he relaxed.

Keith leans back into the couch. He doesn’t say anything for a moment but Lance can feel that he was gathering his words. _Please, Lord don’t let him be an asshole_.

“I get that.” Then after a grueling, painful pause, he adds, “It’s the same thing for me but with midfielders.”

If Lance wasn’t so dignified, he might have choked on his own spit. His brain may have short-circuited. His fingers tighten around in cheeks and he has to physically restrain himself from blurting out: _bitch, what?_ Why? There are two reasons for that.

  1.  Keith might have just low-key implied he was also into guys. Yeah, obviously girls could be midfielders too but given the nature of the topic, it would logically make sense that Keith was talking about boys. Ergo, Keith was also into guys.  
  2.  Lance is a midfielder



“Oh.” Lance clears his throat. _Be cool, McClain. Calm._

“Why?” It never felt like midfielders were anyone’s number one type. If anybody actually did stupid things like this and determine who they find attractive by what position they play.

“Stamina.”

Keith says it such confidence like this was a topic he’s taken time to craft his answer. Lance feels his face crack. His brows go rise up to his hairline and his eyes widen. It was an instinctual reaction because of course the first thing that comes to his mind is sex. Then, how sex would be like with Keith. How _his_ stamina would be like. How strong he was. Keith could easily carry Lance.

Aaaaaandddd now Lance is blushing.

Keith glances at Lance. Who knows what else his treacherous body is letting him see. His dark skin makes it a lot easier for him to mask his blushes but sometimes, it’s too strong. It also doesn’t help that Lance is actually almost incapable of hiding his feelings in emotional moments. And he’s having a moment.

Keith shoulders are shaking and he falls onto his side, his chuckles getting louder by the seconds.

Lance sinks down into the couch. Was Keith messing with him?

Keith clicks his tongue. “You’ve got a dirty mind, McClain.”

Lance squawks, “I didn’t say anything!”

Keith makes a _pfft_ sound. He narrows his eyes at Lance, almost looking insulted that Lance even defended himself.

“You were thinking it. Man, you’re so easy to read.”

Facts.

“Well,” Lance stammers out, “so were you.”

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs, shooting Lance a wicked smirk that sent actual lava to his face. Did his pants just get tighter? Possibly.  “I was.”

See, now? Lance actually wants to throw himself out the window. _Who says that?_ What. Was. Happening?

“You- What?” Lance tongue is failing him. His brain has clocked out. Keith watches him fumble with his words, the skin near his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Oh, no.

Not the crinkles. He only busts those out in a while. Alarms go off in Lance’s head. Divert. Divert this conversation.

Lance forces himself to look away from all of that cuteness.

“Besides,” Lance huffs, trying to get himself together. “Every player has stamina.” You don’t play futbol for as long as they have and not have stamina.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason I like them, though,” Keith continues. He glances at Lance, sucking in his lower lip in thought before releasing it.

“They’re basically the backbone of the game. My midfielders, center backs, they kind of carry the team. They watch out for the team. It... takes a lot of intelligence and--” Keith shrugs, “I don’t know, they’re not shown a whole lot of credit but do so much? It’s attractive to me at least.”

Lance blinks. He can feel his heartbeat humming in his ears. Hearing Keith talk about what he likes in a person is definitely a trip. So, Keith values intelligence, eh? Well, he is sitting right next to Dean’s List student. Prime boyfriend material right here. As far as the other thing… well

Lance isn’t someone that necessarily brags… Okay, he brags sometimes. But nothing to the point of overbearing. It was charming. Right? Shit. Would Keith find that annoying?

Lance bites his lower lip as he processes this new information. It’s interesting Keith thinks of it like that because it’s almost always that people believe that the forwards have the team on _their_ backs. After all, they’re usually the ones on the front lines trying to maneuver themselves to the goal. Lance takes a longer look at Keith, the star forward/striker for his team, and thinks not for the first time that he has a lot more to learn about him.

 _He wasn’t talking about you, dumbass,_ he reminds himself.

Still, he feels a small pocket of warmth radiate through his chest at the honest, “matter-of-fact” way that Keith went about it. Lance tries to play it cool. Gain some intel and not give himself away.

“What,” Lance says teasingly, “So you got a thing for a midfielder?” Keith sounded pretty passionate there. There has to be someone.

Keith doesn’t say anything for a moment. Lance realizes he is asking something he has zero right to know.

“I mean you don’t need to tell me. I’m just being nosy.” He rushes the words out. Allura was rubbing off on him. Whatever Lance expected him to say, it sure as hell wasn't _that_.

“Not one of my players.” Keith says carefully. He slowly nods, almost to himself and smiles down at his hands. “But yeah, there is someone.”

Oh.

So, there is someone; someone that Keith likes, who is a midfielder. Someone that is making Keith smile softly, like he not only caught feelings but like he dived right into them. He was _smiling_ at just the thought of the person.

_You lucky, bitch._

Lance must have a record of always crushing on someone that has feelings for someone else. At this point, it’s getting too predictable. If Lance’s love life was a romantic comedy, he wouldn’t have made it past the first draft. Still, despite the hollow feeling in his stomach, he pushes it away and tells himself _not now._ He can feel sorry for himself later.

“Do I know them?”

Lance isn’t all too familiar with Marmora’s women’s team but he is pretty skilled in the realm of Googling and Insta-stalking. A small, pitiful yet hopeful part of him wonders if it’s a male player within their league. Either way, maybe if they’re ugly then Lance will feel better about himself. Highly unlikely because attractive people on seem to attract other attractive people. _God_ , he thinks, _I’m ugly for even thinking that._

Keith looks at him sideways, his mouth twitching at the corners. “You might.”

So, he might know his competition? Bet.

Lance clears his throat and sits up straighter in his seat.

“Are they cute?”

Lance keeps it open for now, hoping Keith will drop a pronoun for him. _Come on, Keith._ Lance urges, _Take the hint._

“Yeah,” Keith says wryly. He drags the word, like he’s thinking about it. That’s always an indication that the person is not in fact cute. Good. “He’s pretty cute.”   

Yet, at the admittance, Lance watches as a small flush of pink swims onto Keith’s cheeks. Keith thinks this guy was cute. And, really Keith’s opinion is all that matters in this anyway. Hold up— did he just hear Keith say _he_?

“He also has really nice eyes.” Keith continues, oblivious to Lance's brain slowly melting out of his ears. _Yes, hello 911?_ Lance thinks, _Keith Kogane is into guys and I might be going into shock._

 _“_ Beautiful smile.”

Of course, he had a beautiful smile. If Lance ever figures out who the lucky bastard is, Lance will fight him on sight.

Because Lance was a masochist, he prods even more. “Have you asked him out?” _Say no._

Keith shakes his head. “No.” _Yes_.

Keith runs a hand through his hair, exhaling lightly. “Kind of working myself up to it.”

He glances at Lance, his lips quirking a little sheepishly as if that was anything to be ashamed of.

Lance wants to shake him. Keith has actually zero need to be nervous, even if it was so endearing that he was. Like, _come on._ As if anyone would say no to a date with Keith ‘Big Dick Energy’ Kogane. Keith carries himself like he would wreck you in bed and you would beg for more. Lance wants that wreckage. He wants wreckage served to him for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Besides the whole physical points in his favor, Keith is a smart as hell, nice where it counts and has a precious smile that can make any heartbeat pick up. He’s talking about a zombie would give Keith a doubletake kind of attractiveness. Who wouldn’t want to date him?

Still, Lance knows that Keith for all of his confidence on the field is a little slow on the uptake when it comes to social things.  As his new friend, he knows what he must do. He can’t leave him feeling all insecure. It wasn’t right. Even if it hurts to say the words, he says them.

“Well,” Lance says, knocking Keith’s shoulder in solidarity, “I believe in you. I’m only going to say this once, Kogane but you’re definitely a catch. Like you’re up there. Smart and talented and have all of that. “Lance gestures at all of what Keith has to offer.

Keith left brow slowly hikes up his forehead. Lance wasn’t going to elaborate. He’s smart, he can figure it out.

“So, you shouldn’t worry about being turned down. But if he _does_ turn you down, then he’s dumb as hell.” Lance says simply. They’re friends now and damn if Lance wasn’t the type of friend to reassure you when you need it.

Keith is suspiciously quiet. The kind of quiet that shouldn’t occur after someone says the things that Lance just said. Lance dares to look at the other boy, who conveniently was looking back at Lance. His dark eyes were a little wider than usual and brows were slightly raised. What? Was he surprised that he was a catch? It was a little amusing watching the flush rush to Keith’s face as Lance’s words register to him. Lance expected that Keith would be embarrassed. He was prepared for that. What happens after is what throws him off.

Keith’s mouth tugs in a smile that stretches so wide Lance gets to see his beloved dimples. Then Keith is laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners and shoulders shaking with mirth. He leans back into the arm of the couch, nearly curling into himself as laughter seems to actually possess his body. Lance feels a strange sense of Deja vu.

Keith’s cheeks are turning an alarmingly shade of pink and Lance eyes him with not a little bit of wonder. Honestly, Lance is a little concerned. It is so alarming that he doesn’t even get to celebrate that this is the second time he made Keith laugh. He saw dimples and crinkles twice now.

Lance pokes him in the side. Keith doesn’t even flinch. Weirdo. “Keith, buddy are you okay?”

At the question, Keith laughs even harder. “You’re such,” He gasps out between his giggles. “An idiot, McClain.”

Well then. Lance frowns. Those are the kind words he gets after trying to be a good friend?

“Fuck you,” Lance mumbles, feeling his own cheeks burn. “That will be the last time I say anything nice about you.”

Keith giggles simmer down, and he rests his hands on Lance’s arm. “No— thank you. That was nice of you.”

Lance hears the laughter trembling in his voice. Lance cuts a sharp look at him.

“Whatever.” Lance mutters, turning his gaze back to the screen. “You’re an asshole.”

Keith doesn’t respond but Lance can tell he’s still smiling. He feels all that happy energy around him and it is suffocating. Lance doesn’t get what was so funny about what he said. He kept it low-key! He wasn’t being too sentimental or embarrassing. He scoots away from Keith, mean people don’t get to sit next to him. From the corner of his eye, he sees Keith shoot him a look but Lance refuses to return it.

It’s only after a short moment of silence that Keith pokes him in his side. Lance flinches, because he is a human being, unlike Keith. _If he pokes me again, I will rip off his finger,_ he tells himself.

“Lance.” His voice was soft. He has no right to say his name like that. Zero right.   _Keep it down_ , he tells his heart.

“What,” Lance responds flatly.

“Can you look at me?”

“No.” Lance says. “You’re too ugly.”

Keith laughs and mutters something under his breath and Lance narrows his eyes. That sounded suspiciously sassy.

“Listen. I really wasn’t laughing at what you said. I was just thinking of something else. I meant the thank you.”

Keith trains his eyes on him, and really, Lance wants to look away but he can’t. Keith, with his warm eyes and pretty face looks so genuine and serious. As if it was so important that Lance understand that he wasn’t making fun of him. Lance feels his face heat up at the sudden escalation of this silly argument.

“Whatever dude,” Lance shrugs it off, “it’s fine.”

“So, were good? You’re not mad at me anymore?”

Lance thinks of that time he got hit in the chest and Keith’s flustered worry then. How he had insisted that Lance know he didn’t do it on purpose and ensured that Lance was okay. Lance suddenly felt bad for himself. Keith has been bad for his health since the very beginning.

“I wasn’t mad,” Lance says. He wasn’t even hurt that Keith had laughed. Something else was ruining his mood.

“Okay. “Keith nods at him, not sounding all the way convinced. Thankfully, he turns back to the screen leaving Lance to his thoughts.

México wins but Lance isn’t even that hyped right now.  His attention was less on the screen and more on the conversation he just had.

His mind goes through all of the male players in their league and comparing himself to them. Lance was tall and strong but he wasn’t by any means built. Was Keith into guys that were muscular?

He also wasn’t majoring in engineering or economics like some players. He didn’t come from a wealthy family not that he thinks Keith would care. But still.

He had his qualities though. He’s charming and knows how to cook and can make people laugh. He can be a good boyfriend. He would treat Keith so good. _Give me a chance, you asshole,_ he thinks.

He knew he shouldn’t have entertained any hopes but he was young and dumb and Lance.

Like last week, they watch the post-game analysis and talk for a bit. If he doesn’t think too much about the fact that Keith had feelings for someone, he can enjoy the moment.

“You hungry?” Keith asks out nowhere.

“I could eat.”

Keith nods and grabs his keys. The two of them head off to eat at Sammy’s pizzeria that’s a few miles away from Keith’s place. It wasn’t too packed so it was easy for them to find a table and talk. Which Lance was _living_ for.

They talk about school.

_“Summer classes actually suck ass, Keith. I don’t recommend them but at least we graduate soon and we can be less poor.”_

_“We’re going to be poorer what are you talking about?” Keith wrinkles his brow. “I’m doing an internship right now. I’m paying to get internship credit. Isn’t that stupid?”_

_Lance is mad on his behalf. That’s ridiculous._

_“I’m going to burn down the Bursar’s office once I graduate.” Lance is lucky that he has the athletic department to cover expenses for the summer but if he didn’t, it would have been so expensive. “If I go to prison just know I’m okay with it.”_

_Keith’s snorts and nearly chokes on his drink which sets Lance off. At this point, Lance has lost count how many times he’s made him laugh. He doesn’t think he will get used to it though._

And futbol.

“ _I’ve been trying to perfect my bicycle kick.” Lance rolls his eyes, of course, he would the show off._

_“It’s like you don’t want to play this season, Kogane.”_

_Keith shrugs._

_Keith bites his lower lip in thought and adds after a hesitant, almost shy pause. “I also think I’m going to be captain. Which is… weird.”_

_Lance knocks his knee against Keith’s. That’s awesome. “You deserve it, man. If someone should do a bicycle kick in a game, it’s the captain.”_

_Lance doesn’t share his own hints of being captain. He lets Keith soak in the happiness of his own achievement._

_Lance won’t forget the pleased smile Keith tries to hide from him._

And family.

_“They’re all in Miami right now, so it’s been kind of sucky being away for the summer too.”_

_“Yeah, that’s rough but there is always FaceTime?”_

_Lance throws a fry at him._

_Keith catches it with his mouth. He grins at Lance’s begrudgingly impressed look._

_“And Thanksgiving break. My brother is in town so I’m kind of lucky but my mom lives in Washington so I kind of get it,” Keith says._

_“Do you have only one sibling?”_

_“Yeah. You?”_

_“Three. Two younger sisters and one older brother.”_

_“What are they like?”_

_Lance tells him about James teaching him soccer, and sixteen-year-old Elia who loves to read and thirteen-year-old Mya who is a beast at swimming._

_Keith tells him about his older brother, Shiro, who is an occupational therapist and the reason he started playing.  Something else they share in common._

_Lance soaks it all in, feeling so happy that Keith was sharing this stuff with him. Things that he probably wouldn’t have through text._

It was nice and more than Lance had thought they were going to do. It only makes him hungry for more. Once he gets home, the air was still warm even though it was almost 10 p.m. He and Keith had talked for... a while. After eating pizza, they headed back to Keith’s place where they watched a documentary about FIFA corruption on Netflix. Which was _wild_. Lance knew they were corrupt but goddamn.

Later on when they were just chilling, Lance convinces Keith to make a Snapchat and teaches him how to use it. He also makes Keith promise that he won’t break the streak they will undoubtedly make.

Keith’s competitive streak will aid Lance in getting to see his pretty face every day.

Speaking of social media… he allows himself forty minutes of trying to find this guy that Keith is apparently into. After their little bonding moment today, Lance is not so ready to just give up yet. Sure, Keith might be into one person but he can also be into Lance. Lance didn’t ask Keith if he and the other guy were talking. For all Lance knows, he could just be pining after him. Which means it wasn’t technically bad if he keeps his feelings for Keith. Or if he hands out with him. Or, if he flirts with him.

Lance gives up Instagram after twenty minutes. There was no point anyway. He heaves out a sigh as he stares up at ceiling in his room, dimly lit by the small star fairy lights hung up on the wall _._

 _He was into someone_ , he thinks.   

 _Who cares,_ another voice says. Allura was back at it. _You can still hang out with him. You’re both adults._

He opens up iMessage.

 **Lance** [10:40 p.m.]

>hey I had fun today

He bites his lip. Should he….? Fuck it.

 **Lance** [10:40 p.m.]

>Lmk when you’re free this week we can hang again

>Also good night :)

 **Keith** [10:43 p.m.]

>yeah me too and for sure.

>good night

Was he a bad person for liking Keith when he knows he was into someone else? No. He can’t control that. At least not yet.

Was he a bad person for wanting to flirt with Keith now that he knows there is competition? Maybe.

Was he still going to do it? Yes. Hell yes.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! So much happened! Is Lance shady for still going through with his feelings? Let me know what you all think about it all!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, the interns name got changed to Leah so there wouldn’t be confusion. I forgot I mentioned Shay earlier!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance hits up his older brother, Keith and Lance watch the South Korea v. Germany game, and Hunk helps Lance out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YO. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kind words, long and short comments and all of the enthusiasm about the story. It really makes me happy to know all of you are smiling and laughing right with me. Also, thank you for your patience!
> 
> There are a couple of things I would like to mention. 
> 
> 1\. This is around 9k!  
> 2\. There is a brief mention of homophobia/biphobia after the flashback. Feel free to skip it!  
> 3\. Thank you to @elvllvla on tumblr for being my new and awesome beta. I appreciate your gentle guidance and encouragement!  
> 4\. Lance is a disaster. 
> 
> Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>you don’t have to reply but this japan senegal game is awesome

>japan just equalized and 1-1 and it’s only 33 minutes in.

 **Lance** [10:09 a.m.]

> what! I’m in class rn but I’ll watch the highlights

 **Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>who are you going for

 **Lance** [10:09 a.m.]

>Senegal

 **Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>are you serious

 **Lance** [10:09 a.m.]

>it’s a tough choice but yeah

 **Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>will you ever side with the asians

 **Lance** [10:09 a.m.]

Yeah when SK plays Germany :)

 **Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>That’s only cause if they win Mexico advances

 **Lance** [10:09 a.m.]

>#latinogang

 **Keith** [10:09 a.m.]

>stop

>unrelated but I want to plan a scrimmage game. You in?

 **Lance** [10:10 a.m.]

> yeah, I’m down!!

>prepare to get your ass w h o o p e d boiii

 **Keith**  [10:11 a.m.]

> unlikely

 **Lance** [10:12 a.m.]

 **> ** (middle finger emoji)

⚽⚽⚽

 

Lance understands that in order to make this work– to get to Keith have feelings for _him–_ Lance should do some research. Pick-up lines don’t seem like something Keith would be very receptive to. Best case scenario it goes over his head, worst case scenario, Keith breaks his leg. Better to play it safe.

Lance pulls out his phone, and stares at the blinking cursor of the main page. It’s with a small wave of embarrassment and slight dose of shame that Lance types out a series of questions.

_If a guy was flirting with me, what would he do? How to flirt with a guy. How to show a guy you’re into him. Nonverbal ways to show attraction._

He’s on his stomach, right hand scrolling through random articles and his left thumb in between his teeth. They’re catered to women mostly but Lance doesn’t need to be a woman to know that these things work. Lance nods as he reads. Eye contact, touching, shifting his body towards the person, compliments, sharing, remembering facts. The first one he takes a mental note on. He thinks of Keith’s words. _He has really nice eyes._ Lance scoffs. Keith is gonna drown in Lance’s eyes. That boy has _no_ idea what’s even coming for him.

He’s in the middle of reading his eighth article, when he pauses. His phone turns dark and he stares at the reflection from his phone. Was he really doing this?

 _He was flirting with you, you realize, that, right?_ Allura’s voice keeps reminding him.

He really, really tries to remember that. It might be wishful thinking that he was. It could possibly be just all in his head.   _Do guy friends even send each other good morning texts?_ Lance thinks of Hunk. Lance sends him good luck and good morning texts but it was usually on important days. Like, when Hunk has to present a project, or has an interview, or if he wasn’t feeling too hot the night before. It wasn’t on the regular, nothing like what’s going on between Keith and Lance. It’s like mental ping-pong with the way that he counterattacks his reasoning of pursuing anything with Keith. Point: Keith might have been flirting with him and if he really was, then that meant Keith was open to being flirted with. Counterpoint: Keith might not appreciate it after sharing that. Might consider it insensitive.

Lance groans and tosses his phone to the side. He raises his head and hits his head on the mattress, letting out one long stream of ‘fuck.’  Why was this so hard. Why did Keith have to like this other guy? What exactly does he have that Lance doesn’t? He’s going to lose it if he just thinks on it himself. He peels his eyes open and fumbles for his phone which slid away in his thrashing. He unlocks it and swipes to his favorites and clicks James. James would know what to do.

 **Lance** [5:39 p.m.]

>hey are you free to talk

 **Big Bro** [5:41 p.m.]

> call me in 20

 **Lance** [5:42 p.m.]

> okay

Lance is someone who overthinks. He could royally embarrass himself in public and brush it off but then he would stay up all night in horror of what he had done. James… is not like that. He always keeps it moving, which Lance is trying to get better at. Lance figures it’s a trait that the eldest sibling has.  James had to learn a lot of things on his own. First generation college student (on scholarship!). He paved the path for Lance and their younger sisters. Plus, James always tells him like it is.

Lance hasn’t really brought up the topic of romance much with him, at least not when it came to a boy.  It was easier when Lance was remarking on of a girl from school. It was a whole other thing when Lance wants to know the name of one of his brother’s teammates.

He knew James would be supportive. When the time came, and Lance felt like it was okay for him to tell him, he was a sophomore in high school. James was back from school for winter break and the two of them were at the high school field. James had always taken him on his early morning training sessions and it wasn’t any different when he came back home.

 

 

 

 

 

> **_December 2012_ **
> 
> _“Hey.” Lance says, as he balances the ball from foot to foot. He means to sound casual, as if this were any other regular conversation between them. He keeps his gaze focused on his feet, trying to not vomit._
> 
> _“Yeah?”_
> 
> _James was leaning back on his hands, resting after their third trek up and down the bleacher seats. He sounds only a little out of breath. Lance had gone through a series of different ways to go about it. He didn’t want it to be serious, he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Calm down, Lance, he assures himself. This is your brother. Confident, smart, woke, funny James. He loves you. He even loves you after cleaning up your vomit from his car after going to Six Flags. He will still love you._
> 
> _“So,” he starts, his heart fluttering in his ears. Here goes nothing.  “I’m kind of into guys.” He doesn’t stop dribbling, in fact, he lifts the ball up high so he can start bouncing it off his head. Gotta be casual. “Anyways. That guy on your team? Number 10?” He takes a deep breath. “He’s kinda cute you should definitely give him my number.” Never mind that Lance is only 16._
> 
> _It was quiet for a moment but Lance could hear James muttering under his breath for a moment before he speaks up. “Lance.”_
> 
> _Lance heart sinks. He’s mad, he thinks. He’s going to be grossed out and never talk to me and he’ll never teach me how to do a scissor kick. Lance looks back down at him and the ball hits him right on the head before slowly rolling away._
> 
> _“Yeah?” Lance hates how small his voice sounds._
> 
> _“You can’t just drop that and try to get at one of my teammates, man.” James looks at him with squinted eyes, his voice mixed with incredulity and amusement. He shakes his head slightly, his lips curving in a frown. “Besides, you can do better than Andrew.”_
> 
> _Lance blinks, his heart starting back up again. “I can?”_
> 
> _James smiles at him fondly. “Yes.” James says, patting the grass next to him. “Come talk to me like a normal person.”_
> 
> _Lance sits down, pulling his knees into his chest. He pillows his head on his arms and tells him when he figured out he was also into boys. How weird he felt and also kind of wrong. Older Latino communities, like the one their parents grew up in, are very traditional and bisexuality was almost looked at in more disgust than homosexuality. “It’s greedy” is what one of his cousins had said as he scrolled through Instagram remarking on a bisexual classmate of his. That seems to be the opinion of a lot of folks. Lance didn’t feel greedy. Lance actually has zero experience with anyone, so forget about greedy._
> 
> _James tsks at that, no doubt remembering all the things the two of them have heard growing up. Even if their parents had never directly talked about it, family friends do._
> 
> _“Wait, so is that why you always want to come with me to Nate’s house?”_
> 
> _Nate was the forward when James played in high school. He was also Lance’s first real boy crush. He has dark, inky curls, light brown skin, and the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes Lance has ever seen. He’s somewhere in New York now, studying political science.  The two of them still hang out during breaks and Lance always tries to tag along. Lance feels his cheeks flush at the name._
> 
> _“And wanted to wear his jersey at home games instead of mine?” James continues. Nate let him wear it a few times because he was nice._
> 
> _“No.” Lance mumbles, about to hide his face in the crook of his elbow when James grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him into his side._
> 
> _“You little shit,” James laughs as he ruffles the top of Lance’s head. His laughter causes some of the weight lift from Lance’s shoulders. “You barely have game to get a girl, how are you going to succeed with a boy?”_
> 
> _“I’ll manage.” Lance says, half shrugging. Casual roasting is something he can work with. “I mean it’s probably not all that different.”_
> 
> _“Uh huh.” James says._
> 
> _Lance closes his eyes, and keeps inhaling and exhaling slow and deep. There was a small breeze and Lance is grateful for the crisp, winter air. If he doesn’t think about it, it’s just another day of them hanging out.  After a moment of silence, James speaks up. “I’m guessing you haven’t told mama or papa.”_
> 
> _Lance snorts. Hell no. “You’re the first.” Telling his parents was a thought that genuinely turns his stomach. Makes him want to run so far away that his signal from his phone drops and no one can call him and tell him that he’s not a member of the family anymore. He knows people that don’t even talk to their kids. People that have been kicked out and beat. James was the first person he wanted to tell. He’s terrified of what his parents will say. Of what his Dad will think if he brings a boy home._
> 
> _“Well, when you’re ready, I got your back.” James wraps an arm around Lance’s shoulders and pulls him in, planting a kiss on Lance’s head. “You know I love you, regardless right?”_
> 
> _Lance feels tears prick at his eyes, burning so quickly that Lance has to clamp them shut. He feels a hot tear slide down his cheek. He told himself he wouldn’t cry._
> 
> _“Yeah.” His voice quavers a little, more than grateful for James for being James. For always being there for him. It sucks that he has to do this over and over again. But, at least with him helping him along, it’s a little better._

Lance’s was going into his senior year when he told his mom. James did have his back. His mom didn’t really understand at first (“ _how is that possible, mijo? What about Angelina from last year?”)._ He gently told her that Angelina _was_ his girlfriend but just that he was into boys too. It was difficult to wrap her head around, that someone can like both, but she came around. It probably had to deal with him bawling his eyes out and blubbering out in Spanish, “ _I’m still your son, mama. I’m still me._ ” He still remembers the way her eyes sparkled with tears. How she held him to her chest, the vanilla scent of her perfume and how she cradled him, whispering _“I know, mijo, of course you are.”_

They had waited until later to tell his dad. A whole year later, during the tail end of his summer break before he went off to college. It didn’t go so well. Lance wasn’t expecting it too. He had barely let Lance get out the words before getting out of his seat and walking straight out of the house. _(“Does he hate me?” Lance asks, voice thick. His mom gives him a sad smile and squeezes his hand. “No, but this is not easy for him. He’ll come around.”)_

He didn’t. His dad had essentially ignored him for nearly a month. Then, he pretended like it never happened. Lance tried to approach the topic once more before he was told to be quiet and to “ _not bring up that up nonsense when his sisters could hear.”_ He spits it out in Spanish. For all that they were just words, Lance left each one rip through his skin, puncturing his heart.

Lance knew it was hard to take in for him. Lance understands that his dad's upbringing was different than Lance’s but it still hurt to eventually realize his dad might never accept Lance completely. He knows his dad loves him. He also knows he won’t be introducing any boy to him any time soon. He misses his family, but a part of him is also so grateful for having the freedom of leaving. He can’t have imagined staying at home after sharing what he had. At least he had his mom and James’s support. Elia is cool with it too. Lance would wait until Mya was a little older, not that she would care. She’s more mature than he ever was at her age. But, he doesn’t want his dad to go off on him so he would rather play it safe for now.  

“Hey, loser,” is the greeting he gets when James picks up the phone. Sometimes he wonders if his brother was actually five years older than him.

“You’re so rude.” Lance says with a grin, his heart tugging at his brother’s stupid voice. “Hi, to you too.”

“How you been? How’s training?”

Lance shrugs to himself. “Same old. Brutal but fun.”

“Sounds about right. Make sure you keep practicing your corner kicks.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says. James was always in half-coach mode. “How’s your fancy new job?”

“Pretty good so far. My team is nice, there is stocked food all the time and its _way_ more diverse.”

At his last job, James was one of a handful of people of color. And they were all in different departments so he never really worked with them. (“ _Would it be so hard if someone I work with can pronounce my name the right way? Just once?” James says, his hands clasped in prayer. “Ha-mes, say it with me y’all. Ha-mes.”)_ Lance told him to get over it and he was being extra at that point. It would have been worse if his name was not transferable to English and people just gave him a whole ass new name.

Lance whistles.  “You mean this time you’re not going to call me hiding in your car while you talk shit? Like you did with Carol and Rich?” Those two were the supreme definition of passive aggressive white anger. It drove James _insane_. Honestly, Lance would get heated with the stories he shares. The talking down. The side-eyes. Let Lance catch either of them on the streets of Miami one day. Lance would go down swinging.

“Don’t say their names to me. I’m trying to cleanse myself.”

Lance snorts. “Do you have someone you can talk shit with now?”

“Yeah.” James says, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Ay, then that’s all that matters.” Lance was beyond elated when he and Luis linked up their freshman year. Luis had cracked a joke about one of the assistant coach’s horrifying haircut. Lance could barely recall it, but the way Luis had said with a thick Spanish accent, had Lance so weak that he missed his cue to practice his penalty kick.  He was laughing so hard that the Coach made him run a lap on his own. Lance went up to Luis after practice ended and the two of them just clicked. They’ve been tight since.

“So, can you pass my number to Beckham?” What was the perk of James working for Futbol Miami as their in-house communications director, if Lance can’t get in contact with Beckham?

James laughs, the sound a small huff in his ear. “As if he would want your scrawny ass.”

Lance rolls his eyes. The whole calling him scrawny and thin gag was getting old. It’s _been_ old.  First of all, he’s toned. Second of all, just because he wears clothes that weren’t exactly form fitting, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a strong, fit ol’ body. Streetwear. It was fashion. Lance didn’t expect his older brother to understand.  

“I am taller than you so don’t even come for me.” Lance says coolly. “Anyways, that’s not why I called. I need some advice.”

“On what?”

“Don’t make it a big deal, okay?” James makes an affirming noise and Lance exhales before he starts.

“Say there is this guy I’m into…” Lance starts off.

He hears James make a little _humph_ sound in the back of his throat, immediately interested. Probably also surprised. Lance rolls his eyes. Lance has never come to him for anything revolving crushes with boys. Not that James wasn’t receptive to it. It was just that Lance never really had feelings strong enough for him to want to date a guy during high school. Nate was basically off limits (not to mention most likely straight). Plus, when Lance got into university, all his attention was divided to school and sports. Dating while playing a D1 sport was nearly impossible. Yet, here he was.

“And he sorta kinda maybe has a crush on this other guy I don’t know.” Lance rushes to add, “But, they’re not dating or anything. So, I’m kind of trying to have him, you know— like me instead.”

Lance slowly shuts his eyes, embarrassed to be himself. Out loud, Lance sounds like a terrible human being. And kind of pathetic. He hangs his head, feeling his stomach twist up in shame and nerves again at what he wants to do. At wanting Keith.

James doesn’t say anything for a moment and Lance waits for the lecture. _How could you want to still get at him? You should let him be._

Instead, James says, “You’re sure they’re not dating?”

Lance blinks at the words. He thinks of Keith’s sheepish smile and shy words. “Yeah. He told me he hasn’t asked him out yet but he’s trying to get the courage.” Lance bites his lower lip. Doubt creeps in again. “Should I even try? I mean sometimes I _think_ maybe he’s flirting but if he’s trying to ask out this other guy—”

James cuts him off which honestly, Lance is thankful for. He’s on his way to blabbering. “You think he’s been flirting?”

“I mean– maybe.” _Hopefully_.

James hums. Lance imagines him rubbing his chin in thought. “Has this been recent?”

Lance thinks of the interactions they’ve had so far. Keith teasing him at his place. Getting Lance’s number to hang out. He even goes as far back as his behavior during last season. With his dumb thank you-for-the-good-luck grin and compliments. Lance really hopes the statute of limitations for that isn’t over yet. Lance is clinging onto it like a lifeline.

“Yeah.”

“What’s this guy like?”

Lance blows out a breath. How does one simplify Keith Kogane?

“Um, he’s sarcastic, smart, really attractive.” Lance lists off. “He’s sweet when he wants to be.” Lance thinks of Keith’s fussy behavior after nearly killing Lance with a ball to the chest. All pain aside, Lance appreciated the worry. It was...cute. Lance considers telling him that he’s not white, which James would _holler_ if he was a white boy, but decides against it. Too soon.

“Is he on your team?”

“No.” Lance carefully says. “He plays for another team.” Marmora University, their biggest competition next to Galra Tech, no biggie.

“Okay, well that sort of makes it easier and harder at the same time. Do you feel okay with dating someone in the same league as you? I know UA is pretty liberal but it can still be rough.”

It was his senior year, and he feels like he knows the guys on his team enough where they’re not gonna start anything. Plus, James is right in that because they’re not on the same team, there is less awkwardness. Lance can keep it professional when they play against each other. That is if Keith actually was into him. Lance tells him so.

He thinks of the two of them as captains, facing off against one another. Shaking hands at the start of the game. Keith’s confident smirk. It was an attractive image.

“I say go for it. If he isn’t into it, he’ll shut you down, for sure.”

“Thanks,” Lance says sarcastically.

“But if you’re serious about dating him you gotta let him know you’re into him like that.” James says sagely. “First of all, be nice to him. I know you love to be an asshole to the people you’re into but you’re grown so don’t do that.”

“Hey!” Lance protests, but it was half-hearted. Lance thinks of how many times he has both casually and not-casually insulted Keith throughout the years. He cringes. Yikes.

“Give him compliments, let him know you’re thinking about him. Social media is _great_ for that.” Of course, he would say that, Mr. Social Media Analyst. “Do shit for him. Don’t overdo it, though.”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that Lance kind of goes overboard when it comes to the whole dating game. He’s definitely learned how to wind it back. Especially after what happened with Nyma. Lance nearly shudders in memory. Lance nods, absorbing it all. Most of it is just reinforcing what he has found on the internet but it was good to hear it from James.

“So,” James drags the word, “who is this lucky guy?”

“Not telling you.”

“Uh-huh. Doesn’t matter. I know who it is anyway.”

“No, you don’t.” Lance replies back quickly.

“He’s sarcastic, plays for another team and you were probably an asshole to him the whole time at university.” James laughs. The way he says it makes Lance imagine him counting off his fingers. He probably was knowing him. Lance gets a vivid image of him in his buttoned-up shirt and dark, gelled back hair thinking he knew everything. “There’s only one person you’ve ever mentioned that fits that bill.”

Oh. Yeah. “Shut up.” Lance mumbles, feeling warmth travel up his neck. So, he might have vented to his brother about Keith. Who could blame him? Keith was irritating. Still is.

James sighs, amused. “You’ve always had a thing for forwards.” He was _definitely_ talking about Nate.

“ _Stop_.” Lance says, embarrassed for himself. Like any other person in the world, his eyes always trail off to the forward. Nate will always hold a special spot in his heart.

James chuckles in his ear and Lance frowns. His older brother knows him inside out and it’s both endearing and annoying.

“You suck.” Lance pulls a pillow over his head.

James ignores him. “Make sure to call mama by the end of the week or she’ll ban you from entering the house on Thanksgiving.”

“Okay.” Lance makes another mental note to call his mom on the weekend. It was only around 9 p.m. on the east coast but she might be getting ready for bed. He doesn’t want to worry her by calling at night.

He pauses before asking. “How’s everyone doing? How’s dad?”

“Good. Working as usual. He was asking if you were eating a couple days ago.”

Lance huffs. His throat tightening. “I’m not starving so you can tell him that.”

“Yeah, I did.” James says and then pauses. He can feel James hesitate on whether or not he should ask about it but he decides to leave it be. Which Lance is grateful for. He doesn’t want to get in on that right now. They catch up a little bit, talking about Lance’s classes and his teammates and the World Cup. Twenty minutes pass before they cut it.

“Hey, I gotta go but I’ll text you.” James says, “Let me know what happens with _this guy._ ” James not bluntly saying the name out loud was just a little bit of courtesy.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Okay, I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Not even a minute later, his phone buzzes.

 **Big Bro** [6:23 p.m.]

>be respectful.

> kogane deserves a nice boy

Lance spoke too soon. He should have known he wouldn’t let him end the night without mentioning Keith’s name.

 **Lance** [6:23 p.m.]

>OMG SHUT UP

 **Big Bro** [6:24 p.m.]

> (skull emoji)

⚽⚽⚽

During the week, Lance uses social media just like James suggested. What better way to remind Keith that Lance exists and is actually the man of his dreams than sending him his daily dosage of Lance? Especially, when he’s in his workout clothes.

“Why are we taking photos?” Luis wonders out loud. He has his arms crossed on his chest, frowning at Lance. “We never take photos before practice.” It was twenty minutes before practice, and it wasn’t quite golden hour but it was good enough for Lance.  Maybe they should, given the circumstances.

“Just shut up and squat.” Lance says, before looking over to Jamie who was standing a few feet away from them, Lance’s phone in his hand. “Jamie, how’s the lighting look?”

“Bomb.” He turns around and shows them, as he takes a group selfie and they all simultaneously go “ _ooh, yeah_.”

“Told you.” Jamie grins, clearly feeling proud of himself. He points at the two of them. “Y’all ready?”

The two of them get in position, Luis casually squats down and rests his elbows on his knees, throwing his fingers up into their signature pose. Lance squats down, one leg tucked underneath his butt and the other leg slightly outstretched. He leans one elbow on his knee and looks into the camera, his lips quirked into a small, but confident smile. Yes, he’s practiced that smile in a mirror before. Some might consider it lame, but it’s all worth it if he looks like a glowing, tasty _snack_. The sun is right in their face and it hurts to keep looking at Jamie but he tells himself it’s worth it. He needs to know Lance was prettier than that other guy.

 _There is something wrong with you,_ a part of him whispers. He tells it to zip it.

Jamie directs them around a little bit and after a couple minutes, Lance gets the shot he wants. Yup. Definitely Instagram worthy but also, worthy enough for Keith. He taps at the photo, and types _Get you a UA boy._ He snorts and deletes it. He types out _UA boys do it better._ He pulls in his lower lip, a grin threatening to stretch across his mouth. He sends it to Keith only. Then Lance forces himself to lock his phone and catch up to the boys. Let him sit on that.

 

* * *

 

After showering and packing, he allows himself to take out his phone from his gym bag. He sees a few notifications, an announcement from his professor, something from onefootball about the Iran v. Portugal game. He can’t wait to watch the highlights from that.  He doesn’t even bother to read it because the most recent ones are from Keith.

_k-kogane is typing…_

_k-kogane sent…_

_ >what do UA boys do better exactly _

Lance’s brain immediately supplies “anything, handsome ;)” or “whatever your ex couldn’t” as potential responses and he stifles his cackle. This was too much. Lance shakes his head at himself. Got to take it slow. His phone beeps with another notification.

> _losing?_

The smile on his face drops.

_ > ha. you’re so funny _

_ >use your imagination _

Lance sees that Keith had opened the message. His response was a picture. Of himself. Keith’s resting his head against a window. The picture shows a third of his face, and he has a dark hoodie pulled up over his head. Lance figures he must be commuting back from San Francisco. He looks cozy. The hoodie doesn’t mask his eyes or the fact that they were slightly hooded, as if he was fighting off sleep. He was doing his little _I’m kind of smiling but not really_ thing he was fond of.

_ >I don’t have to imagine that though? _

Lance’s steps falter as he rereads it. Really? _Really_. Lance clicks his tongue. He’s making it real hard to flirt by being a dick. Lance sends him a photo of himself, with a close-mouthed smile on his face.

> _go choke kogane_

He locks his phone and grabs his gym bag and heads to the parking lot. The nerve of some people. The _audacity_ . But… he looked so good. _You’re pathetic_ , he tells himself, _real pathetic, McClain._

  
  
⚽⚽⚽

 

“Do you want to watch the South Korea game or Mexico’s?”

Lance glances at Keith. They were both really important matches, but it was definite that South Korea was going out anyways. Lance would imagine Keith wants to see them play their last game.

“We can watch South Korea.”

“You sure?” Keith asks, looking at Lance for confirmation.

“Yeah, man,” He juts his chin at the TV, “put it on.” Lance could always watch the Mexico game on his own or just be posted on updates from his phone.

“Okay, cool.” Keith smiles, his relief pretty obvious.

Choosing which game to watch during group stages was like deciding which class you want to take more. It was a brutal decision to make but it’s gotta be done. Today, they learn which teams will or won’t be going to the knockout stage.  That is when things start to get even more interesting. But, secretly, he thinks it’s a little fun watching Keith react during games. He’s come over twice since last Saturday and with each time, Keith just becomes more relaxed . It makes him wonder what it would have been like if they had become actual friends earlier.

 If that had been the case he would have known days ago that confident, aloof Keith Kogane was actually someone that clutched a pillow to his chest and rock himself while muttering words in Japanese when he was watching a game. It’s happened enough times that Lance had decided to get it on video. A couple days ago, he got his chance. It was just _so cute._ Lance might have posted it on his story; Keith may have tried to snatch his phone from him...

_(“Would you stop recording me?” Keith asks, trying to snatch Lance’s phone from him. This is the third time Lance has been caught and Keith was obviously suspicious. Lance ducks away._

_“No. Why are you complaining, all your angles are great anyway.”_

_Keith brows furrow.“What?”_

_Lance sighs and tells himself to say the words at the tip of his tongue. Compliment him. He points at Keith’s face, thankful his finger wasn’t shaking._

_“You got a pretty face, Kogane. Get over it.”_

_Lance watches as Keith as the words sink in. He blinks at Lance and swiftly turns away from Lance, but Lance sees the tip of his ears turning pink. The perks of Keith’s hair in a bun: ears are exposed for any hints of blushing._

_Lance bites his lower lip to keep from smiling._

_“Whatever,” he mumbles. Once Keith’s back is turned to him, Lance pulls his shirt over his mouth to hide the wide grin on his face. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. Keith didn’t try to flip it around and roast Lance. The best part? Keith doesn’t stop him from taking photos after that.Success.)_

“Dude,” Lance says in a hushed voice, “What is going on.”

There has been so many shots from Germany but _nothing_ was getting in. Lance has got to give it up to the South Korean team who were literally throwing their bodies in the way of the ball. _You thought_ , was the mood for the South Korean team and Lance is _here. For. It_. He loves games like this. The anticipation was running high; he can practically feel the tension in the game. Germany has everything to lose.  South Korea has nothing to lose except their pride but, it seems like they’re not giving that up easily.

“I don’t know.” Keith says, shaking his head at the TV. He sounds almost in awe. “They’re disqualified but they’re just…”

“Killing it? Amazing? Fan-freakin-tastic?”

Keith shoots him a wry smile. “Yeah.”

Lance leans forward in his seat as the clock runs and players keep getting closer and closer to each goal. Most of the first half is lots of attacking on both sides, yet both teams are still at nil.

Once it reaches halftime, Lance rises up from his seat and stretches, a satisfied groan unwillingly slipping out from his lips. His bones crack in disturbing ways (and concerning) ways but he doesn’t may it too much mind. He never knows just how wound up he is about a game till he feels himself relax.

“You’re stretching like you did something,” Keith teases. “Still, just skin and bones, huh?”

Okay. That was it.  

James had mentioned it earlier that week. Then Keith wants to add his about fortieth cent to the bucket. And to be real, having the guy you’re into calling you skin and bones isn’t exactly confidence boosting. Even if it was just teasing. Lance can take teasing. He can take jabs and roasts just like anyone. But this? This was founded on _lies_. Lance whips around, narrowing his eyes at Keith who was now leaning back against the sofa, looking as relaxed as can be. He has his arms rested across his chest and now his legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

“What?”

He’s glo’d up. He’s put in time at the gym and at the field. He’s been eating right, just like ol’ Keith here. And this was the last time he takes any slander against his body.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Kogane–” Keith raises an amused brow at that. “That I am not just skin and bones, but fucking toned, beautiful muscle, you- you _asshole_.”

Keith’s brows raise to his hairline as Lance’s voice gets more heated with absolute indignation. He wasn’t really preparing to but sometime between the beginning of his irritation and his verbal diarrhea, he thought it was a good idea. So, one second his shirt was on his back, then the next it was off and wrapped around his hand.

He doesn’t pause to gage Keith’s reaction.

“See?” Lance asks, stretching out his arms. He might flex a little. He might slam his leg on the sofa, right to where Keith’s thigh was and point at his defined calves. Keith’s eyes don’t give too much away but at the very least, they’re not bright with amusement anymore. “You see this shit? It’s muscle.”

Lance moves his leg away. He points at his biceps and pats his abs. “It’s muscle here and here. It’s toned muscle everywhere.” He rests his hands on his hips. He barely stops himself from pointing at his ass. He got a cute ass, though.

Keith’s gaze, just… slowly travels up Lance’s body. Lance’s face floods with heat. _It’s lit_ , a part of him says, laughing hysterically. His pulse is racing; his armpits sting with the sudden perspiration. And to top it all off, his thoughts were running into one another, decking the other to gain the spot at being at the forefront of his mind. Two thoughts stand out to him: _What did I just do?_ And _Get it the fuck together, McClain._

“Yeah, so you’re not the only one that changed. So, suck it up and admit I’m not some skinny chopstick,” Lance finishes, sticking out his tongue. It was a little immature. However, it was too late to not be immature. He really just took off his shirt like he was about to fight Keith. It was only downhill from there. Maturity? He doesn’t know her.

He wants to put his shirt back on because Keith was _staring_ at him and Lance can’t tell what he was thinking. He was beginning to feel...exposed. He resists the urge to cover his nipples. But he can’t back out now. So, he just stands there. Shirtless.

Keith audibly swallows.

“Yeah.” Keith’s voice sounds off. Almost as if he had just woken up. Low, toeing the line of raspy. Lance squints at him. His cheeks were turning pink. Was he holding back laughter?

“Huh?”

“You’re not some chopstick.” Keith shrugs, his lips pursed. “Guess I was wrong.” He takes another long look at Lance, sweeping his gaze from Lance’s feet to his eyes, lingering for a second too long at his abs before averting his gaze.

Lance blinks. “Wait what?”

“I–” Keith exhales and looks up at the ceiling.

“You’re not skin and bones.”

He looks at Lance, and _smiles._ It was a small, genuine, shy smile that held too much power over Lance _._ Lance feels like air was lodged in his throat. Keith had muted the TV and the room suddenly felt so much quieter.

“Yeah. I… didn’t mean to make you feel bad about your body.”

He coughs lowly and sinks into the couch. Lance doesn’t take his eyes off of him. His heart softens. He feels his whole body soften in the face of a boy who was sometimes so genuine it made Lance’s head spin. One second they’re making fun of each other and the next Keith is looking at him with this open, kind look in his eyes. He was always so worried of really hurting Lance’s feelings. Which meant that he cared what Lance thought of him. And as embarrassing as it was, that knowledge made Lance really happy.

“It’s a uh– a great body– really strong and stuff.” Keith mumbles, his cheeks turning bright pink. This time, he really tucks his chin into his neck. Keith looks like he’s seconds away from melting into the couch. This whole situation has escalated to levels that Lance could never have foreseen.

 _Chill_ , he tells his heart. _We can freak out about this later._

Lance purses his lip. _Don’t smile. Don’t fucking smile, Lance._

He thinks of the teasing Keith put him through before. “So, is this your way of telling me you think I’m built?”

Keith clearly remembers his own words. He raises his head up and narrows his eyes at him. It doesn’t look nearly as scary with his crimson cheeks.  “Shut it, McClain.”

“Am I a snack, Keith? Or am I a five-course meal? Tell me, Keith, do you want summa this?” He walks closer to Keith, wiggling his brows.

Lance gets a pillow thrown at his face for his efforts.

“I hate you for making me know what that means,” Keith says, his voice equal parts disgusted and resigned.

“Good. That means my daily meme lessons are working.” Lance grins as he pulls his shirt back on. He catches Keith getting a last peek before sliding his gaze off of Lance. He thought he was slick. Lance was still trying to figure out where on the scale his little episode fell. Best not to think too much about it right now. For now, he can stay in this warm, silly moment and bask in the knowledge that Keith thinks he has a great body.

By the time the second half starts, Keith has moved to the floor and he leans back, his shoulder brushing against Lance’s knee. Lance eyes the wavy, black locks on Keith’s head. If he really wants to, he could just stretch his fingers just a smidge and touch them.

“Why do you,” Lance blurts out but cuts himself off.

“Hmm?” Keith turns his head towards Lance.  “Why do I what?”

Lance panics for a moment, forgetting his initial thought.

“Why do you insist on trying to bring mullets back?” Lance flicks at the mess of hair at the base of Keith's neck to emphasize his point. It was... a lot softer than it looked.

Keith gives him a flat look and turns back to the television. “I don't know. Why are you so obsessed with my hair?”

Lance can hear the joke in his tone but that doesn't stop the heat from crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. At this rate, Lance might pass out from heatstroke.

“I am not- Whatever.” Lance huffs, slumping into the couch further, earning a laugh from Keith.

“You kind of are, though. Have been obsessed with it since freshman year.” Keith tilts his head to the side so a portion of it was leaning against the sofa and some on Lance’s thigh. “It’s not like you had the best haircut either.”

Lance gets flashbacks of letting his dad try to line up his hair. It really turned out to be _hey, how far do you think we can push Lance’s hairline?_ The last time he ever makes that mistake.

Lance flicks his neck. “Shut your filthy mouth. That was a dark time.”

Keith shoots him a grin. It doesn’t quite bring out the dimples, but there is a hint of them.

“It’s okay, your hair looks a lot better now.” Keith says, leaning his shoulder in, softening his earlier teasing. He doesn’t move his head from where it was pressed against Lance’s thigh. Lance can’t help but wonder if he is as touchy-feely with the mystery boy. The thought leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“Thanks,” Lance says dryly but yeah, he was secretly happy about that. If Keith was resting his head on his thigh, then why can’t Lance touch his hair? So, he runs his fingers down Keith’s hair, like how he finger-combs Mya’s hair before he braids it.

“I guess your hair isn’t as wack as before.” It was fluffy and soft, and though it resembled a mullet, it works for him. Lance wonders if this is what people mean when different parts of a person become attractive to you simply because you have feelings for them.

Keith huffs out a laugh.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

* * *

 

Like Lance has been saying, the second half is almost always when the drama really starts. Even if it sometimes took a while for a goal to go in. It was in the 91st minute, on stoppage time, when South Korea scores. It was almost childish in the way that the goal was shot in. There was fumbling, Lance was sure it must have been confusing to be in that position. Even he was trying to keep track of where the ball was because the amount of bodies in the box was getting overwhelming. Y G Kim has the ball and he adjusts himself before shooting. The ball gets shot on the upper right-hand corner of the goal and it was in.

Kim is off. His red jersey flapping as he kisses his finger. Lance wonders what was going through his mind right now. Making the first goal of the game. Then, not even five seconds later, a whistle blows and the commentators are yelling because the flag is up. Just as quickly as the point was given, it was taken away.

“What? That counted. He wasn’t even offside,” Keith shouts, throwing his beloved pillow across the living room. Keith glances over at Lance. “Lance, are you seeing this?”

“I am, Keith, I really am,” Lance says in the most chill way possible.  

Lance leans back into his seat, eyeing Keith, who was standing in the middle of the room now, his hands on his hips, frowning at the TV. He looks like he was waiting for his turn to talk to the ref and Lance has to stifle a laugh at the thought. Still, he was annoyed too. If South Korea gets the point, then Germany was out which meant Mexico still had skin in the game. He sneakily pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of him. He quickly types out ‘ _he’s really about to fight the tv_. #KORGER’ and posts it to his story.

After looking at the playback and speaking with the other video assistant referees, the point goes to South Korea. The team rushes to the bench, and they’re screaming, jumping on top of one another. Keith nods, like _thank you for coming to your senses before I fucked someone up_ and sits back down on the floor, this time leaning further into Lance. He gets a whiff of Keith’s body soap. It’s a light fragrance, and Lance thinks it’s Dove. The green one, that smells like a packaged container of what the word _fresh_ is. It suits him. Lance wants to lean forward and plant a kiss on his clean, pretty neck. He stops himself. Barely.

* * *

 

So, it was looking like Germany was well on their way to getting kicked out of the whole tournament. _In the group stage._ Which means if this score stands, not only does South Korea win, but Mexico advances group of 16. Lance and Keith watch in absolute silence. The goalie comes out from the box. Which was common when a team was down a point in the very last minutes of a game. You know shit is about to go down when the goalie comes out.

“Holy shit, Lance.” Keith says, tapping Lance’s leg with the back of his hand. “Are you seeing this.”

“Yeah, man.” Lance chuckles, trying to focus on the game and not Keith who keeps touching him and asking him that same question. His heart keeps jolting and it was exhausting, but he’s so high off it.  

Suddenly, Keith’s fingers are wrapped around Lance’s ankle. Lance wasn’t even sure that Keith was aware of it happening. He had flung his pillow a while back. Lance tries to focus on the game, he really does, but it was really hard. Keith’s hands were very warm.

_Focus on the game, you weirdo._

And he does. It all happens so fast. One of the most beautiful counter attacks he’s seen in the cup so far. Neuer, Germany’s goalie gets played. At the 95th minute, Sun, Number 7, is sprinting down the field. Sule, a Germany defender is running after him, but homie was too far away. Sun catches the ball a few feet before it’s considered out, taps it in to the far end of the goal and ultimately seals the fate of the German team. 2-0. Germany was out. It’s mania on the TV. The German players drop like flies. Lance figures they’re exhausted as hell. Keith is cheering his heart out. This was a game for the books. Lance pulls out his phone, inspired to capture this memory.

He makes one short snap summarizing the end of the match before changing gears. He goes to Keith, and wraps his right arm around his shoulders.

“Keith, buddy, how you feeling?” Lance asks. Keith is relaxed next to him, even leaning in closer so he fits the frame better.

“I feel pretty good, Lance.” He shifts his head to look at Lance, giving the camera his rather unfair side profile. “How you feeling?” He looks at Lance with his eyebrows raised, the corner of his lips twitching and nothing was even remotely funny, but Lance feels laughter bubbling in him.

Lance frowns for a second.  “You know, I’m feeling pretty fucking good, yeah.” He says to Keith who was now blatantly trying to fight back a grin. “I feel like I could eat a whole ass soccer ball, Keith. That’s how happy I am.”

He remembers that he’s still recording but like hell he was going to break eye contact.

His dark eyes were dancing. “You know, me too.” he says.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, “yeah let’s go eat some balls,” but he doesn’t have to because he can see that Keith was already thinking it. They stare at one another, and Keith’s mouth is twitching and Lance feels the bubble of laughter threatening to explode.  He tries to stop it but he can’t. Lance breaks first, and he ducks his head, shoulders shaking.

“You’re so fucking weird, Lance,” Keith says, his own voice mixing with laughter.

His voice sounds fond, and Lance feels his heart warm because yeah, he was. If he can make Keith laugh because of it then he doesn’t really care. And if he can make Keith look at him that softly, and say his name that fondly… it’s a point in his book.

  
⚽⚽⚽

 

When he leaves, he reads the messages from Allura. He had sent her a couple as he freaked out in Keith’s bathroom after what he had done.

 **Lance** [ 2:09 p.m.]

> allura wtf I just took off my shirt in front of him because he teased me for being “skinny” which is fake af

>but then he complimented me??

>who am I???

He blew out his cheeks, everything crashing back to him. _Why are you like this?_ he thinks. _Why are you such a disaster?_

 **Allura** [2:12 p.m.]

>What did he say?

 **Lance** [2:13 p.m.]

> “oh, guess I was wrong.”  “you have a great body”

>wtf does that mean

>allura

 **Allura** [2:13 p.m.]

>to sum it up: he liked what he saw  

 **Lance** [2:14 p.m.]

>ALLURA

 **Allura** [3:05 p.m.]

>lmao lance he was probably just teasing you and then you got hurt then went shirtless. I know you’re not skinny and he saw that

>you go, king

>get your man

 **Lance** [3:08 p.m.]

>he was blushing

 **Allura** [3:10 p.m.]

> just so you know I’m screaming

 **Lance** [3:12 p.m.]

>bruh me too

 **Allura** [3:13 p.m.]

>this is all so cute.

Lance can’t stop the smile that tugs at his mouth. He’s glad that Allura was at least enjoying his mess of a love life. He exits out of the messenger app and opens up Spotify. He clicks the playlist he has saved for the World Cup and startup Blue, his ‘o5 Honda Accord. She’s the car he got his license in and though she’s a little banged up, she’s strong enough to get him to and from Miami during summer breaks. With the heat outside, he doesn’t want to turn on the AC, so he rolls down the windows, grateful for the cool breeze. Dusk wasn’t for another hour or two but at least the air was cooling. He sings along to song after song, increasing the volume when Dura comes on.

When Lance parks and enters their place, Hunk is on the couch watching _I Love Lucy_ . Lance tries to get him to watch more current shows but Hunk refuses. ( _“These are classics, Lance. They won’t hurt me.”)_ Lance has got to admit, though, these oldies are hilarious. Lance gets settled on the couch and curls his body towards the TV when he realizes there are eyes on him. Lance looks over at Hunk. Hunk’s looking at him in expectation. Lance raises a brow at him.  

“What?”

“So... Keith Kogane?” Hunk says. “Are we gonna talk about that?”

Lance’s first thought was how did Hunk know about Keith. But, he remembers he posted something on his story. Hunk must have seen it and recognized Keith right away.

“Boy, do I got some shit to tell you. I was wildin’ today.”

He hears Hunk shuffle in his seat and the show pauses. “What happened?”

“I stripped for him.”

“Lance!” Hunk says, sounding more amused than reproachful. Makes sense cause Hunk lives for tea.

“I mean–” Lance groans, and moves to lay on his back. He holds the pillow against his chest. The whole drive back, Lance couldn’t help but replay everything. Why did he do things without really thinking them all the way through? _He_ _waggled his eyebrows at him._ Like he was some eighty-year-old pervert.

Oh, God.

“He was making fun of me for being skinny,” Lance explains.

Hunk hums in understanding. Hunk has taken progress photos of him because he is a real one. Whether he was skinny or not, it didn’t matter. It was just because he so clearly wasn’t that it made him irked for people teasing him.

“So, I took off my shirt to show him I wasn’t.” Like that was the next logical step. And not just brushing it off and making fun of Keith. Hunk lets out a huff but Lance doesn’t look towards him.  Like his conversation with James, the longer he speaks the more like an idiot he feels. Once he’s done with his story, he glances at Hunk. Hunk’s brows are pretty up there.

“You are into Keith, right? I wasn’t just guessing this whole time?”

“Yeah.” Lance frowns. “Wait, what?”

Hunk waves the question away. Lance makes a mental note to ask about it later.

“When did you guys start hanging out?”

Lance debriefs him on the whole Keith situation, from Allura’s meddling to them hanging out to Keith telling him there was a guy he was into. Then, hesitantly, sharing he still wants to pursue him.

“Yeah, I know I’m trash. What else is new.” Lance says before Hunk can say anything.

“Lance. You…” Hunk sighs. Then he puts his hands on either side of his nose. His thumbs are tucked under his chin and he just stares at Lance, like he was trying to solve a problem.

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Lance watches Hunk think and he braces himself. Hunk is the one who has even a healthier dose of paranoia and self-preservation between the two of them. Which, Lance thought he was with how he was raised but, Hunk has got him beat. His mom had really made sure the fear of God was in him. He will tell Lance if he’s messing up.

“So… he’s into this guy,” Hunk starts, his voice lilting to get confirmation.

Lance nods.

“And this guy is a midfielder.”

“Yup.”

“And he’s not on Keith’s team?”

Lance nods and adds, “He also has a beautiful smile and nice eyes. Also, pretty intelligent from what I gathered.”

Hunk’s hand drops from his face. They lay outstretched in his lap as Hunk gives him a flat look. He closes his eyes muttering something to himself. Was he… praying? Why was he praying? Lance furrows his brows.

“What are you–”

“Hold on. Keith asked you for your number? Asks you to hang out? Compliments you?” Hunk asks seriously.

Lance slowly nods.

“Bro,” Hunk slowly says, “Here’s a crazy thought but hear me out.”

He was listening. All ears on deck.

Hunk leans forward and asks softly, “Have you thought for a second he might be talking about… you?”

The way Hunk says it reminds Lance of how he guided Lance through a complicated problem in his calculus course last year. His voice slow and patient, as he points to where Lance had overlooked something. A simple, obvious thing but one that Lance nevertheless overlooked. Things like how Keith always came to say good game to Lance first. The smiles that he gave freely to Lance. His genuine nature and undivided attention. Lances heart thuds. _Hard._ He curls his fingers into his palm.

“You did all of that today, and he _blushed_ . Then complimented you. He actually reads and learns your meme lessons.” He gives Lance a pointed look. As if to say, ‘ _that is major_ ’.

“Plus, from what you’ve told me about him, he doesn’t seem like the type to say things and not mean it. I don’t think there is another guy, Lance.” Hunk continues, oblivious to Lance having a crisis. “I think he was talking about you. And you missed the signs.”

Lance stares at Hunk, helpless. It makes sense. And Lance feels like an idiot because he didn’t even think of himself as an option. That he had even a chance. But here Hunk was, pointing out straight up facts. He thinks of all the times Allura has given him a knowing look or nudged him with her elbow. All the instances he had thought of when he was speaking to James. Memories that trail back to sophomore year.

Shit.

He’s been only seeing with one eye this whole time. There was another side to this that he never even considered.

That night he goes to bed replaying the day. Again. Remembers the small warm breeze entering Keith’s place from the kitchen window. The weight of Keith leaning on him. The openness of his smile. Him fumbling out an apology. His red cheeks. _Don’t get your hopes up,_ he tells himself. _Don’t do it, man._

He repeats this to himself over and over again but he already knows it’s too late. Lance was always late when it came to Keith. Late in not seeing the play that Keith set up. Late in realizing he wants them to be friends. So late in recognizing his feelings and understanding what they meant. It always irked him. Still irks him. Yet in this particular case, he doesn’t think it’s so bad.

Keith might have feelings for him. He might have been talking about Lance that day. Lance could be the boy with the beautiful smile he thinks about. The one that he smiles for even when he’s not there. Lance’s heart does a slow turn in his chest at the thought of Keith thinking of him in that way. The simple knowledge that Keith could very well be talking about _him_ was enough for Lance to fall asleep, sporting a small, hopeful smile.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith catches feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all.
> 
> The kid is back!
> 
> 1\. This is 9k and in Keith’s POV. I started writing this chapter days ago in Lance’s and I was like maybe it wouldn’t hurt to be in Keith’s. Especially since we ended at a good place for Lance and at the halfway mark. (lmk what you think!!!)
> 
> 2\. there are three 3 flashbacks aka i’m spilling the tea on Keith and his feelings.
> 
> 3\. Thank you to all those that are liking, commenting and subscribing. I read the comments and it actually gives me life and energy to write because I know that y’all are excited to read it. Just also a shoutout for ao3 guest user “justpassingby” for always making me smile and laugh with your detailed comments and guest user “Iriset” for checking ao3 specifically for my story. I might do one of those everytime I post because the love should get recognized. It means a lot to me so thank you ALL for the love and patience. 
> 
> 4\. Emma @elvllvla is a wonderful cheerleader and beta so thank you for always listening to my rants and complaints. 
> 
> 5\. there is mention of homophobia and a gay slur is thrown in the first flasback in 2015 so feel free to skip.
> 
> 6\. enjoy and please comment to lmk what you think (sorry for any mistakes in advance. im just tired of seeing this chapter at this point) <3
> 
> *updated tags  
> +If you wanna come talk to me, hit me up on [tumblr](http:azaraven.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/bluegoodness1) :)

It isn’t all that surprising Keith grew up to be an athlete. His dad always used to tell him how much he loved to kick his legs when he was an infant, even to the point where his dad had nursed a bruise or two. Apparently, Keith also loved to wiggle out of his dad's grip and run around the living room naked. His dad had a lot of stories to tell him about what Keith was like as a baby but Keith is pretty sure that his dad had something to do with it. At least, eventually he did.

He can’t remember a time when he wasn’t tagging along on morning runs with him or hikes on the weekend. He grew up being given the chance to do activities from martial arts to dance to soccer and though he ended up sticking to soccer, he still enjoys the others.  

There was something about soccer that grounded him in a way the other activities didn’t. Maybe it was because it was something that was tied to his dad or the easy access he had to practice it. Maybe it was because he liked the feeling of successfully dribbling the ball for five minutes or the loud thud of satisfaction when he kicks the ball at a wall for the hundredth time. Maybe it was because it became therapeutic for him.  

 It grounded him and connected him with his dad in the very few ways he was able anymore. It didn’t hurt that he was exhausted enough to crash into another strange bed, in a strange town. It helped him to not to focus on the fact that he was alone in the world.

   

> * * *
> 
> **_August 2010_ **
> 
>   _Keith considers whether or not it was worth it for him to stay and listen to the lecture he was going to get. On one hand, he doesn’t care what Ms. Vanessa has to say because she always talked to him like he was dumb which makes her dumb. On the other hand, he wants to hear exactly what story freakin’ Zackary concocted to make it all seem like Keith's fault. If he were to leave, it would only take him a few seconds to sneak from the back entrance of the school. Keith was weighing his options when he hears footsteps come closer to him and he prepares himself to try and least like he wasn’t on the edge of snapping at Ms. Vanessa either._
> 
> _“You didn’t have to break his nose,” a deep voice says from behind him that definitely wasn’t Ms. Vanessa. Thank God._
> 
> _Keith grunts, wrapping his arms around himself. Zackary (Keith doesn’t care if he goes by Zack) should be glad that Keith didn’t break something more valuable than a nose._
> 
> _“He had it coming.” Keith says after a moment, staring dead straight at the wall again._
> 
> _Yeah, he sounds a little sketchy when he says it but at this point, Keith is past caring. It was a colorful mural. Keith hopes it was children’s doing because it wasn’t a very good mural. He knows how this conversation was going to go. This guy was going to gently tell that Keith was banned from attending the after-school program until he fixes his attitude; as if he was the one that was saying the insensitive things about being an orphan._
> 
> _Whatever._
> 
> _Keith shouldn’t be surprised. Dumb white boys never get into trouble anyways and Keith has come to that realization a while back. Keith’s stretches his fingers, and a shadow of a smirk twitches over his mouth as he recollects the way Zackary went down.  What was that stupid saying one of his foster brothers used to proudly exclaim when he told Keith about his adventures on the school years? Something like talk shit and get hit? It was exactly that and it was true._
> 
> _The man takes a seat beside him with a tired sigh. Keith glances at him for only a second before looking away. He’s seen him around for a month now but he never caught his name and he wasn’t interested enough to find out. But, there wasn’t a way to not notice him. He was the only other Asian volunteer. He was tall and had a scar running across the bridge of his nose, it was a darker shade than the rest of his skin and Keith is curious for a split second how it came to be. And the prosthetic. Keith doesn’t stare, though. He also doesn’t talk. There was no point in making conversation with someone that was clearly here to tell him to scram._
> 
> _“He is a little bit of a dick,” the man admits, and Keith is too caught up on something else to realize this volunteer just rightfully called a student a dick._
> 
> _Keith blinks, taking in the words, the familiar yet foreign lilt he hasn’t heard in over two years. He spoke Japanese? Keith feels his eyes widen a little. The words slip out smoothly and Keith feels his heart thud in his chest. He hasn’t heard Japanese in so long. Huh._
> 
> _“Don’t tell anyone I said that but yeah, he is awful. Like a lot.”_
> 
> _“Wh-” Keith blinks, trying to get his bearings. That came out of left field. He blurts out, in Japanese, “Are you allowed to say that?”_
> 
> _The words feel odd leaving his mouth because, wow, it has been such a long time that it shocks him that he even remembers. He’s suddenly splashed with a feeling of happiness. Or, nostalgia but it was something like finding something he didn’t know he lost but definitely needed. It felt really good._
> 
> _“Probably not.” The man says after a brief pause, as if he has to even think about that. Keith is pretty sure he shouldn’t have. “But honestly, he’s been a bit of a problem. I’m surprised it took him this long to get hit.”_
> 
> _Keith usually takes care to mask his expressions because they can do more damage than intended. But, he’s so thrown off that Keith can’t help the way his jaw hangs a little loosely. Keith wants to laugh because yeah, he was too. Zachary thought he was untouchable or something which is ridiculous because he weighed like 90 pounds and had the reflexes of a slug._
> 
> _The man stretches out his legs, and he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and nice pair of sneakers. Keith glances down at his old pair of Vans and slides them underneath the chair. The other man smiles and Keith frowns at his budding smile._
> 
>   _He turns away and mumbles, “Trust me, me too.” They stay there for a few minutes in silence. Keith doesn’t like it. “Aren’t you here to tell me I’m kicked out?” Keith has learned that it was better to get these sort of things just done and over with._
> 
> " _No.”_
> 
> _Keith blinks. What?_
> 
> _“I don’t think you should resort to violence when handling an issue like that. I understand why you wanted to hit him, trust me, kiddo I do.”_
> 
> _Keith’s eyes flash at the word. Kiddo? Keith stopped being a kid when his dad died._
> 
> _The man raises his hands up in apology. Good. “I just think in these areas, you’re better off not pulling that type of stuff.”_
> 
> _The man looks around them pointedly, and Keith understands perfectly. Translation: Keith was a minority in a sea of people that wouldn’t hesitate to sue him and have no qualms about him being thrown in a juvenile correction center._
> 
> _“It’s not fair,” Keith says._
> 
> _“I know it’s just better to be careful. They’re not looking out for you.”_
> 
>   _Keith looks at him and he is tempted to ask if that was what he was trying to do now. Keith know that there is a certain type of connection that people feel with someone in their community. His dad would always be the type of person to help another Japanese person because it wasn’t like there was many Japanese let alone Asians in El Paso._
> 
> _“Well I talked to the parents and settled everything.” The man says, “You know. Just in case you were worried.”_
> 
>   _Oh._
> 
> _“I wasn’t worried.”_
> 
>   _If anything, Keith would just have been a little disappointed to not have a proper soccer field to play on. Yeah, it might be a bummer to have to immediately go back “home” and try to think of things to occupy him before it was time to sleep. But, Keith has done it before and he could do it again._
> 
> _The older man hums and says, “How old are you anyway?”_
> 
> _Keith sits up straighter and evenly states,” Thirteen.”_
> 
> _“So, you’ll be going into high school soon.”_
> 
> _It was said less of a question and more of a statement. He had a year before he entered that special hell and Keith was dreading it with each passing day. He wasn’t sure if high school was like the way it was in the crappy TV shows his foster sister Kayla likes to watch, but if it was, then Keith wouldn’t make it past the first week without getting suspended._
> 
> _“Yeah.” Keith says, slouching in his seat._
> 
> _“Are you going to play for the soccer team?”_
> 
> _Keith shrugs. “I don’t know.” The thought has crossed his mind. It’s crossed his mind multiple times enough times to know who the coach was and the spot they hold in the district. However, he also has to be practical. Who would pay for his cleats and other necessities? Who would pick him up from games? Drop him off? It sounds like more trouble than it’s worth._
> 
> _“I see you play every day,” the man says, and Keith has to look over at him. He was looking at Keith curiously but also with plain acknowledgment. “You have a pretty good ball control.”_
> 
> _Keith kicks the floor with the heel of his sneakers. “I’m better than everyone here. I think it’s better than “pretty good.”_
> 
> _He laughs. Keith doesn’t see what was so funny because he was better than all the kids there._
> 
> _“Well, they aren’t exactly competition since they clearly don’t play as seriously as you do.” Keith takes his position as forward seriously, so what of it? “But say you play against me? That’s a whole other story.”_
> 
> _Keith barely stops himself from snorting. Is this guy serious? “What. And you’re competition?”_
> 
> _He must have caught the disbelieving edge to Keith’s voice and the man raises a brow. He leans back into the chair casually and crosses his arms across his chest. “Hey, you’re talking to a former university captain,” he pauses, raising a finger to the sky, “who went to a NCAA championship.”_
> 
>   _Was Keith supposed to congratulate him?_
> 
> _Shut up, a voice says (one that’s done with Keith’s negative attitude) that's pretty cool._
> 
> _Still, Keith wrinkles his nose and says, “How long ago was that?”_
> 
> _The man rests a hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded. “I’m only 24. Jeez, kid.”_
> 
> _“So, a long time ago,” Keith says, biting back a smirk at the exaggerated look of offense on the other man. His eyebrows are rather thick and were light, not gray but not blonde. What was up with this guy and his hair?_
> 
> _“Why is your hair all gray then?”_
> 
> _“I’m stressed,” the man says flatly._
> 
> _Keith side eyes him. What could be so stressful about being twenty-four? Shouldn’t things be going well at the point? Old enough to have a job, which means you can move out, be independent and not have to worry about where you’ll be in three months because you control that. Still, he doesn’t ask._
> 
> _Keith pulls at a string on his jeans and mutters, “That sucks.”_
> 
> _The man snorts under his breath. “Yeah. It does but it’s just growing pains.” Growing pains. Keith has heard of that expression before. These last two years were too painful as it was, so Keith can do without any more growing pains._
> 
> _The man suddenly stands up and Keith knows he should say something. He doesn’t want him to necessarily leave; it was pretty nice talking in Japanese. He should say thank you, right? His dad raised him long enough to drill in that he should say please and thank you, especially to his elders and suddenly being around someone who was Japanese made that part of him kick in. He tries to speak but the words are lodged in his throat. Keith swallows thickly and slouches in his seat instead._
> 
> _“So, are we practicing?”_
> 
> _Keith whips his head up, eyes a little wider as he watches the man looking at him with a tilted head, smiling patiently. Keith would have figured he had left as quietly as he came. Yet..._
> 
> _“Uh,” Keith says, rising out of his seat. “Yeah, we can practice.”_
> 
> _The man nods his head, and they walk over to the field, Keith head reaching below his shoulder. Standing side by side, Keith realizes that this guy was tall and built like some sort of hero. Keith wants to ask him what he eats because Keith wants to grow to be that tall too but figures that’s a little weird._
> 
> _“My name is Takashi by the way. Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro.”_
> 
> _Takashi Shirogane._
> 
> _He nods silently, repeating the name to himself over and over again._
> 
> _“I’m Keith.”_
> 
> _“Nice to meet you, Keith.”_
> 
> _Keith nods and he didn’t know it at that moment, as they walked side by side to the soccer field, but this man would change his life._
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

  

“Why does your phone keep going off?” Shiro asks as he flips through potential movies to watch on Netflix.

Keith already knows this was going to take ages. Shiro is so picky about movies; Keith has actually fallen asleep as he decides what genre he would rather watch. If Adam was here and not hanging out with his coworkers, then they might have actually gotten somewhere.

 Keith glances over to where his phone was charging. It has vibrated three times now…

 “I don’t know,” Keith says, feeling too lazy to get up and check.

 There was a high likelihood it was a bunch of emails, a reminder, or possibly a message. He looks back at his phone. Lance might have messaged him.

 “Have you finally found the benefits of using it?”

 “No.” He thinks of Lance because _duh_ , he gets to see Lance via his phone. He amends, “A little.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 Keith curls closer into the couch, wrapping his arm around his stomach. He stays quiet, deliberating whether or not he should ask the question that has been on his mind for a couple days.

 “Hey, Shiro,” Keith blurts, “what would you do if… a guy just like strips his shirt off in front of you?”

 Shiro stares at him like he doesn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth. Or, rather concerned that Keith doesn’t know the answer to that himself. Yeah...Keith definitely could have worded that better.

 “Um. Call the police?” Shiro finally says. He sits up straighter in his seat and oh, God, he has his concerned parenting face on.  “Keith... who is taking their clothes off in front of you?”

 Keith groans and shuts his eyes. This was already going south and he didn’t even get to the worst (best) part. “Never mind.”

 “You can’t say something like that and expect me to forget it.” There he goes again sounding disturbed and concerned.

 “I just wanna know. Hypothetically if a guy you like,” Keith says and notices how Shiro raises a brow, “takes his shirt off in front of you, to prove something to you– if that constitutes as flirting.”

“Constitutes,” Shiro says, rolling his eyes.  “God, you even talk like Adam.” 

Jokes on him because Keith takes that as a compliment.

“Just answer me.”

“Well, in this hypothetical situation was flirting happening before the nudity occurred?”

“It wasn’t—” Keith says indignantly but then stops himself because it _was_ actually nudity. Partial nudity that he was in no way prepared for it and he still gets heart palpitations when he thinks on it. So much pretty skin. _And muscle_ , a voice gleefully reminds him. Yeah. Can’t forget that.

Shiro takes his silence as a yes. “Then, probably,” Shiro says, raising a shoulder. Shiro doesn’t say anything for a beat but something must clearly come to him.

“Hey...” Shiro trails off, his eyes a little too knowing for Keith’s liking.

“Hypothetical.” Keith interrupts, averting his gaze back to the home screen of Netflix. He can feel Shiro’s eyes on him but he refuses to look back because he will give himself away. He’s pretty sure that he already did, though with his stupid question.

“Uh-huh.”

His phone chirps.

“You might want to check that,” Shiro says, his gaze back on the screen. “Your hypothetical situation might have messaged you.”

Keith doesn’t appreciate the teasing but like the weak man he was, he eventually does get up to check it. It was, in fact, his non-hypothetical situation sending him another photo of him at practice. It was a selfie and he clearly was on his back on the field with his hair matted to his forehead and skin shining with sweat.

_Pray for me ya boy might not make it_

He’s such a dork.

“Stop smiling and sit back down. I wanna watch _Moana_.”

* * *

 

Two days later, when the train rolls up to the platform, Keith is looking at a snapchat of Shiro looking at the camera with soulless eyes. The time stamp shows 6:00 a.m. Keith grins at Shiro’s caption. “ _I just wanna sleep shit.”_ Jeez. He types, _you look like you need it too._

Keith moves his feet in short, small strides to make it to the nearest cart. He makes his way up to the second level, breathing a sigh of relief to find an open seat immediately. Like any sane person, Keith loves the independence of being able to drive his own car. He gets to decide when he arrives and leaves and does not have to deal with the strange smells of strangers and unnecessary noise. However, with this internship being in San Francisco, he quickly realized after being late on his first day, that it to drive in San Francisco. He loves himself enough to not want to deal with anxiety every morning. So, he decided that he would suck it up and take the CalTrain every morning to the city.  It beat being stuck in traffic and worrying whether or not an idiot was going to rear-end him trying to get to work. It didn’t hurt his firm would foot the bill either for transportation.

 He gets settled in and opens up Spotify to listen to Stuff They Don’t Want You to Know, aka the only podcast that matters.  He’s about ten minutes in and getting to the best part when the narrator’s voice slowly thins out and Keith is worried his data disappeared when he realizes it was a text notification. Three of them actually. Keith grits his teeth. Who has to send three consecutive text messages at seven in the morning? Keith grumbles a little and clicks the side of his phone when he reads who in fact sent him a text.

 

 **Lance** [7:23 a.m.]

Oh.

Well in that case.

>Keith!!

Keith’s heart lurches. _It’s just a text, calm down._

 > good morning!

 

Yeah, no, his heart rate picks up anyway. This is a funny little development that Keith will never get used to. He’s seen Alex religiously send enough messages to his girlfriend to know that this was something people do. Keith didn’t realize people not dating could do it, but he one morning, he was just like _fuck it I’m going to send him a good morning text_.  So, Keith sent a good morning text.

( _Just shut up and text him, he tells himself. Just do it, you little punk. Keith grabs his phone from the nightstand and unlocks it with the touchpad. He opens up messages and of course the first name on the list is Lance. Or Lance who has a fire and a prince emoji next to his name._

_Keith didn’t have it in him to change it because Lance was prince like?  Like, Prince Naveen was probably based off of Lance somehow.  Tall boy, with brown curls and a charming personality? Yeah. Definitely Lance._

  _Keith wants to add another emoji; he’s thought of one or two to add but he runs the risk of Lance seeing the updated version of what Keith has him saved under so he doesn’t. Keith clicks the name and types out the words that have been itching to be sent. Once it is sent, Keith locks his phone and dives underneath his pillow, muffling his embarrassed groan. Surely, people don’t overreact like this right? It was just a good morning text. To Lance. Lance deserves that kind of stuff. It’s all good. He hopes Lance doesn’t think it’s weird. He hopes he likes it.)_

 

To this day, it has to be one of the best decisions he’s made. Or, it’s right below him asking for Lance’s number. This has become a part of his morning routine and Keith’s heart obviously still gets little fluttery when Lance beats him to it on certain mornings. If Keith didn’t know better, he would think that Lance would get up earlier just to beat him to it.

 

>oh and guess what?? the blue samurais are advancing!!

> pretty exciting huh :D

 

For someone that wasn’t cheering them on, Keith can practically feel his excitement.

 **Keith** [7:23 a.m.]

>Good morning

>And yeah, it’s crazy. First time in history for fair play. japan did that

 

 **Lance** [ 7:24 a.m.]

>Things japan did: that

 

 **Keith** [7:24 a.m.]

>Yeah, I just said that

 

 **Lance** [7:25 a.m.]

>Yeah, I know

>It’s just funnier when I do it

>Anyways you //know// im reppin’ japan for this game

 

It’s truly worrisome that Keith can imagine Lance’s facial expression and body language as he says it as if he was right in front of Keith. How his brows would twist in turn in this ridiculous way, how his big hands would gesticulate. The way his blue eyes seem to freakin’ twinkle when he’s about to make a joke.  It’s a little horrifying that he feels a fond smile stretching across his mouth. He looks around to see if anyone was looking at him and realizes no one was. _No one cares_ , a voice says in his head. So, he lets himself smile down at his phone like an idiot.

 

 **Keith** [7:26 a.m.]

>Just because people on the internet say it doesn’t mean its funnier

>And finally

 

 **Lance** [7:27 a.m.]

>That’s actually exactly what it means???

 

Keith snorts and he immediately coughs, raising his fist to cover the growing grin behind it. If Lance was there, he would no doubt have that look he in his eye whenever he makes Keith laugh. If he tries to hide it, he’s utterly terrible at it because Keith has caught him more than once staring at him all… happy and proud. He really shouldn’t because Lance is like ridiculously funny. It wasn’t fair that he was that good looking, athletic, intelligent and had an amazing sense of humor. It was no surprise that Keith was crushing on him.

 

 **Lance** [7:28 a.m.]

>Anyways

>You wanna go to watch it at the showing at King’s Stadium on Saturday?

>we can get up early and camp out

 

 **Keith** [7:28 a.m.]

>Camp out?

 **Lance** [7:29 a.m.]

>Yeah, like I can pick you up early. Find some seats on the field. You in?

>We can invite some of our teammates too. it’ll be fun : ))

Keith wonders what it would take to show Lance that he essentially has to do zero persuading for him to get Keith to show up somewhere granted, he be there too. For someone so smart, Keith wonders why he is so dense when it comes to… them.

 

 **Keith** [7:30 a.m.]

>sure

Keith sighs and locks his phone after Lance sends him a bunch of hand emoji’s, signaling an “ok.” He looks out the window, as the train zooms past grocery stores and gas stations and parking lots and walls full of bad graffiti. He didn’t expect this summer to be like this. He figured he would be going to his internship, go to training, hang out with his teammates and binge watch _Black Mirror_ and _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. He didn’t think that Lance would show to his stupid viewing party that Alex spearheaded (he will now admit he was a little hopeful despite telling himself he didn’t care either way). It turned out, he did and that just because he had not seen Lance in a while, didn’t mean his feelings disappeared. Whatever was dormant in their time apart since the season ended washed over Keith again. Why he likes this boy so much. Every season, every game, every time. And when it all started...

   

> * * *
> 
> **_October 2015_ **
> 
> _When tensions are running high during a game, there was bound to be some trash talking or dirty plays. Just overall, dumb unnecessary behavior because some people don’t know how to play a fair game. Keith was no stranger to people talking dirty about him. Whether it behind his back, or straight to face (the most daring) Keith was used to it._
> 
>   _Keith honestly has done a lot of growing up but he has and always will be a fighter. If someone pushes the right buttons at the wrong time, he’s not above ending an argument with his fists.  He’s been suspended from schools, kicked out of games, the usual things that “bad kids” go through. However, since he’s at a university on scholarship, he has calmed down. He’s so much better than the angry thirteen-year-old he was and he’s proud of where he came to be._
> 
>   _Yet, some people still try him. They find out things about him from the grapevine and loose lips. They want to get him to slip up and throw him off his game. Those are the types of players Keith hates. The ones that lack in skill and try to make up for it with their flapping mouths. He hates playing Galra Tech because they’re full of rich, entitled players who think MU should be even thankful to play against them. Lotor especially. God, Keith hates that guy._
> 
> _There were other teams he tolerates but there wasn’t one he really enjoyed playing. Or, at least until he played University of Altea. He doesn’t really look forward to most games. He is happy to play. but he never looks forward to playing any certain team. But after the excitement of freshman year, Keith likes Altea’s playing style. Their genuine and seem to always hold respect for the game._
> 
>   _Or, that is except this one player._
> 
> _Keith tries to ignore him at first but he was the one that was chosen to defend Keith, unfortunately._
> 
>   _“Heard you are kind of a loner. I mean, Marmora University is full a bunch of orphans anyway, people that weren't wanted.”_
> 
>   _Keith stays silent. He won’t entertain this guy. He’s just trying to get a rise out of him. How many times has Keith been made fun of for being an orphan? He inhales and exhales slowly, keeping his eyes on the ball that’s still being passed back and forth midfield. Don’t focus on him. Ignore him._
> 
>   _“Wait. I heard you have an adopted brother or something. He’s gay, right?”_
> 
> _How…?_
> 
>   _How in the world he might know that is beyond Keith. How he knows anything about Keith is beyond him, really, but the words have already been said. Telling by the tone of where this conversation was going, this guy definitely might be on his way to regretting ever bringing in Shiro._
> 
> _“Why don’t you shut the fuck up.” Keith says. His breathing was becoming labored and he knows it didn’t have anything to do with playing. Patience lends focus, he repeats to himself. Don’t let him get to you. He’s just another dumb white boy trying to get to you. “Before you say something you regret.”_
> 
> _Michelle Obama says that one thing, right? They go low, we go high. Something like that. That’s a good quote too. Matthews is as low as they come and really, Keith can make Michelle Obama proud. Just chill, Keith. Focus on the game._
> 
> _He isn’t looking at Matthews but he knows his eyes weren’t really watching for the ball either. His attention was split because try as he might and try to channel the First Lady’s patience, Keith might be a second away from drop kicking someone. It was so ridiculous because UA wasn’t the university he would expect this from. Maybe Villmore College. Definitely Galra Tech, but UA was always one of the better ones. Guess, people never cease to surprise him.  Like any idiot, Matthews doesn’t stop talking. In fact, he gets worse._
> 
>   _“Hey, wait–do you take it up the ass too?” Matthews laughs grossly._
> 
>   _Ugh._
> 
> _Keith is suddenly hit with a realization of what this guy was probably like. Probably on academic probation. Refuses to watch or read the news. God, he’s probably the type of guy that thinks any gay guy would want to sleep with him. Keith would rather die a virgin than have sex with Matthews. Any sane person would, honestly._
> 
> _“I bet you do, you and your faggot brother…”_
> 
> _Okay. So, they were throwing slurs now?_
> 
> _Got it._
> 
> _“Okay,” Keith says, his voice coming out almost like a hiss. Were his hands currently curled into fists? Yup.  Keith takes a few steps forward to him, already calculating just how he’s about to wipe the smirk off his face. “Pretty sure you’re going to regret that.”_
> 
> _“Is he at the game today?” His green eyes glimmered. Keith thinks how nice they’ll look when they’re swollen shut.  “Wait– is he even like your brother? Are you gay for him?”_
> 
>   _This guy doesn’t even make sense. He sounds like an idiot that is just trying to get under Keith’s skin because that is what he is aiming for. Keith should know better– he does know better– but somewhere between bringing Shiro into this conversation and his gross declaration, logical Keith has clocked out. Keith wants to mess him up just a little. Maybe loosen a tooth or two. Keith grabs Matthews jersey at the neck, and twists it around his fist. It’s almost laughable how easily Keith was able to drag Matthews towards him. The nerve of some people._
> 
>   _"Don’t ever talk about my family, Matthews.” Keith says lowly, “or, I swear I will break your skinny leg so you never walk again.” Keith tightens his grip and he barely, stops himself from gripping his neck altogether. Attempted murder is not something he wants on his record, right? “Do you understand?”_
> 
>   _Matthews mouth opens and Keith waits for him to spew out one more comment. One more thing that would send Keith off the edge. A sick part of Keith wants him to do it just so he can really drill it into his head who he was messing with._
> 
>   _Do it. Keith thinks, staring Matthews dead in the eye. I fucking dare you._
> 
>   _He doesn’t get the chance, though. Suddenly, someone is at Keith’s side and hand is on Keith’s shoulder. Keith clenches his jaw, really hoping it wasn’t someone from UA trying to stop Keith. He looks to the side and locks eyes with baby blue, furrowed thin brows in a sea of rich, brown skin. The other boy must be talking because his mouth was moving but Keith can’t hear him with the roaring blood in his ears. It was number nine. McClain. He corrects himself– Lance. Their midfielder._
> 
> _“Dude, it’s not worth it.” McClain says, sounding winded, his hand still tight on Keith’s shoulder. Keith tenses. The other boy lowers his head a little, and says in a low voice, “Just– let me handle it.”_
> 
> _“What are you-”_
> 
>   _“Shut the fuck up, Matthews.” McClain says, his eyes not leaving Keith’s. Let the record show that Matthews was still in damn near a chokehold. “Can you let him go?”_
> 
>   _Keith gives him a blank look._
> 
>   _“Please?”_
> 
>   _Maybe it was the fact that Keith knew he shouldn’t try and extend this scene longer than it already has. Maybe it was the soft way that McClain asked, which is odd since he could have just, shoved Matthews away. Maybe it was because that McClain was one of the few players Keith has come to respect even if they had not the best of relationships. Whatever it was, Keith listens.  Keith counts to three to himself before shoving Matthews away, having a little thrill at the way he stumbles to regain his balance. Matthews rolls his eyes and walks away and Keith has to stop himself from thinking that keying his car would be the next action to take._
> 
>   _“Don’t.” McClain says, from beside him. “He isn’t worth it.”_
> 
>   _Keith moves his gaze from Matthews and turns to McClain who looks far more serious than Keith has ever seen him. He wasn’t like a jerk like Matthews. The only fault Keith had against him was that he apparently had something against Keith. Also, that he was one of the few players that Keith has to keep an eye on because he executes these insane passes. Keith can’t really hold his skill against him, though. It’s something he sort of looks forward to actually._  
> 
> _“Yeah, okay. You stopped me.” Keith says. “Just–don’t think that I believe that guy is going to get any actual consequences.”_
> 
> _Keith has dealt with more than one white kid spewing some things to Keith and acting like he won’t get punished for it. Keith takes a step away from McClain who was barely two inches away._
> 
> _“Thought your school was all about progressive?”_
> 
> _“Hey, he doesn’t speak for everyone,” McClain replies, frowning._
> 
> _Keith knew he was right. He knew that this one kid doesn’t represent all of the UA student body or faculty or their soccer team. It didn’t make the irritation flooding Keith lessen. Yeah, he knows that dumb people don’t represent their entire group but the shit is still irritating. Still, he knows that he won’t really hold anything against McClain._
> 
> _“I know he said way out of line things and I totally get why you want to punch him cause shit, I do too, but you might be on your way to semifinals so just– let me handle it, okay?”_
> 
> _Keith stares at him, feeling his heart thud hard in his chest. McClain stays quiet, waiting for Keith’s response. Keith wasn’t sure why he was asking for Keith’s permission. He takes in his earnest eyes, his squared shoulders and the determined twist of his mouth.  Keith feels the anger loosen in his chest. What was he doing? He didn’t have time for this._
> 
> _“Yeah, whatever.” Keith says. “I’m not holding my breath.” Then he’s off running to end of the field where they’re on offense._
> 
>   _The game didn’t stop because of their little spat. He doubts anything will come of it. He looks back, and he only gets a glance of McClain whispering something in Matthew’s ear. By the looks of it, it doesn’t seem all that positive, but what does he know? Keith turns around, telling himself he doesn’t care either way. Keith doesn’t believe in karma, but he wishes he did; he wishes that people like Matthews actually got what they deserved._
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Keith doesn’t realize until later that night the significance of an opposing player stopping him from getting a red card. He was looking out for Keith even though he had no need to. Huh._
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> _The following week, Keith was mostly over the whole incident. Yes, he would have liked to have wiped the floor with Matthews, but it was better that he was stopped. He thinks of blue eyes and strong hands and exhales slowly for what felt like the hundredth time. Keith was one of the last to head back into the locker room. He feels the age old satisfying ache in his limbs as he takes a step. He might have been taking some lingering irritation out on the field but Keith was always prone to pushing himself past his limits. He was definitely going to be feeling this tomorrow morning. Whatever. Future Keith can deal with it.  Once he reaches the locker room entrance, Keith heads inside. The boys are talking when he walks in, their voices getting clearer and louder as he walks further. It was Alex and Daniel, their goalkeeper, along with Nicolas (Nic) and Elijah, their midfielders._
> 
> _“Yeah, Matthews on UA’s team got suspended for like three games. Apparently, he said some way out of pocket things to someone during a game.” Elijah says, slipping on a pair of black and white Nike sneakers._
> 
> _Daniel nods.  “I heard someone on his own team called him out. Talked to the captain and the Coach.”_
> 
> _His teammates whistled lowly. That’s… bold. Keith doesn’t make eye contact with any of them, slowly stripping his shirt off. Was it McClain? His heart lurches at the prospect. The thought has crossed his mind, his curiosity picking at him but Keith never actually for a second thought any consequence would come. Even if McClain did say something it just wouldn’t make sense to bench a starting player._
> 
>   _“You know I bet it was Kinkade.” Elijah says, leaning back casually against the locker room. “That guy doesn’t take any shit.”_
> 
>   _Keith doesn’t say anything when they all hum in agreement but he definitely agrees on the second part of it.  Kinkade was the type of guy to shut someone up with just a look. He carries himself way differently than anyone else Keith has seen; he was definitely going to be captain of the team next year._
> 
>   _Let me handle it, okay?_
> 
>   _His right hand tightens around his towel as he makes his way to the showers. McClain’s voice repeats in his head. Let me handle it. Let me handle it. He isn’t worth it. You might be going to semifinals. Let me handle it. Let me handle it._
> 
>   _Okay, so McClain did end up doing something. He didn’t promise Keith or owe it to him but he followed through and got a starting player benched. What kind of person does that?_
> 
>   _A good person, a voice says in his head._
> 
>  _Keith heads into the showers, trying to stomp down on the curiosity biting at his ankles. Why did he do that? Matthews was a good player. So, why? For Keith? They weren’t even friends. Keith scrubs a hand down his face as water cascades down every bit of his body. He thinks of baby blue eyes and broad shoulders pulled back in confidence. Long legs in white soccer shorts..._  
> 
> _Ugh. Seriously? A boy does one nice thing for you and suddenly, he’s attractive, a voice says. C’mon stop lying, another voice pipes up, you’ve noticed that about him before._
> 
> _The latter voice suspiciously sounds like Alex. Keith can tell that sly tone even in his thoughts. Keith shakes his head, getting the thoughts out of his mind. Whatever. McClain was an attractive player that might have some morals. Great. No big deal._  
> 
>  

 Yeah...

It kind of became a big deal. After that point, Keith began to _really_ notice Lance. Keith has always been an observant type of person, so he knows Lance definitely had personality. He was quite obviously one of the most spirited members of his team. Rallying up the crowd, jumping on his teammates, and dancing after a goal. Keith knows that he’s also a skilled midfielder with passes that are almost sent with laser-like precision, right to the location of where the forward or mid/forwards need to be.

The thing is, now Keith has begun to notice other things. Like, how bright his smile gets when he gets an assist and his team scores. Or, how big his hands were whenever they shook before a game. How freakin’ tall he was. Things that slowly killed Keith. Lance McClain was a good person. He was also really attractive and really, Keith never stood a chance.

  

> * * *
> 
>   
>  **September 2016**
> 
> _Keith and Alex are waiting for their Coach to let them know they should head back home. Keith figures he's checking to see if everyone was out of the locker rooms and equipment was accountted for. It wasn't too cold out but Alex pulls his hood over his dark, buzzed hair._
> 
>   _“Hey. You got company,” Alex says lowly, brown eyes glancing over Keith’s shoulder.  His pink lips quirk at whatever he’s looking at and Keith stops trying to manage the flyaway hairs into a bun.  It was a lost cause anyway._
> 
>   _“Eh?” Keith says._
> 
> _"McClain's coming," Alex say under his breath before he turns and walks away, saluting Keith goodbye for the time being._
> 
>   _Keith looks over his shoulder and only has a brief moment to think of the word “shit” when he makes out the tall figure that was walking towards him. He was walking towards him, right? Why would Alex just leave? They make eye contact and Keith turns his body towards Lance. The other boy comes up and doesn't even say hello or anything. He just stares at Keith, hands in his pockets of hoodie and casually raises both his shoulders._
> 
>   _“So,” Lance says, dragging out the word slightly. “I don’t know why you had to do me dirty like that.”_
> 
>   _He must have taken a shower and all because his hair was curling slightly. He was wearing a zip up hoodie with his universities logo on it and Keith has to take a quick moment to appreciate how nice white and that particular shade of blue looks on him._
> 
>   _“Huh?”_  
> 
> _“I mean, like I get that you’re like the best forward in the league and all but like I just want to point out I am not a defenseman so really–it’s alright that, that happened.” Lance waves his hand back to where the field was and Keith actually has zero clue what he is talking about._
> 
>   _Focus, Keith._
> 
>   _Wait. Keith blinks at him. Is he…? He can’t be... “Are you seriously trying to explain away the fact that I got the ball around you?”_
> 
>   _“That is not–” Lance says huffily, averting his gaze. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’m not trying to explain away–”_
> 
> _Keith clears his throat because that sounds like absolute shit._
> 
>   _“I am not!”_
> 
> _Keith raises a brow at him, pursing his lips together trying his best to not smile at his outraged expression.  Keith has known that Lance was one of the more... emotional team members of UA but he never would have thought he would come this far. And honestly, it wasn’t like Keith completely whooped his ass. He defended pretty well but like he said, he wasn’t a defenseman. Despite his tries, the hint of a smile must escape because Lance does see it. And he’s clearly not happy about it since he’s glaring at Keith now. Aw._
> 
> _“You know what? I don’t need this. Just wanted to let you know that next time it won’t happen.”_
> 
>   _“Okay,” Keith says, nodding his head along, hoping his eyes weren’t showing his amusement.  This was… really cute. “I look forward to it.”_
> 
> _Lance opens his mouth, already ready to rip Keith a new one, but stops himself. He takes a deep breath before he stabs a finger at Keith. It was inches before actually touching him._
> 
>   _“I don’t like your tone, Kogane,” Lance says, staring Keith straight in the eye and damn, he has beautiful eyes.  Focus, Keith a voice tells him, he’s mad at you. Lance always seems to be irritated at Keith, though. Keith has the right to just appreciate his face while he gets a talking too, right?_
> 
> _This close, Keith notices that Lance’s baby blue eyes were complete with sweeping long dark lashes. His nose was thin and sharp like his chin. His lips were full and the top lip was a little bit darker than the bottom. His lips were shiny right now like his skin. And… wait... so, he’s actually taller than Keith? The thought shouldn’t be deemed as a positive after the teasing remarks Lance threw him their freshman year. Yet, here he was, appreciating the fact. And here was Lance, not leaving._
> 
>   _“No tone here, McClain.” Keith says, raising his hands up in peace. His heart was fluttering and a grin was begging to stretch on his lips. “Besides. You guys ended up winning, so you should be happy.”_
> 
> _Lance narrows his eyes at him.  “Yeah, sure.” Lance says before turning around and swiftly walking over to where the rest of his teammates were. He doesn't glance back at Keith once so Keith allows himself to really smile at what had just transpired. Nothing like that has really ever happened to him and if it were any other person, he probably would have thought it was a little desperate. Lance though... it was kind of endearing._
> 
> _On the ride back he's thinking about it and taking note of the small lurch his heart does when he remembers Lance's everything. Keith rests his head aganist the window and thinks, "fuck."_
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

When the train finally rolls to San Francisco, Keith has already traded over 20 snaps back and forth with Lance because apparently, they cannot let their “streak” die. They’re nearly at a month now and Keith has to admit that getting daily pictures of Lance in exchange for a shitty app that drains his battery is worth it. He sends Lance a shot of the backed-up line of cars by the train station and types out _I’d rather die than drive in sf._

 Lance replies back immediately and it’s a shot of his shoes and the asphalt surrounding it which most likely means he’s making his way to class.

_> Dramatic but same???_

Keith smiles because he can hear Lance’s voice so clearly in his mind and at this point, he doesn’t even care.

_> You at your internship?_

Keith replies “ _heading there”_ , wondering if he ever told Lance about his internship. He’s working at a boutique architectural firm that seems to have enough revenue to pay Keith and have a surplus to cover his transportation. He didn’t ask questions when they gave him a prepaid clipper card and a voucher for his Lyfts. Keith is _very_ grateful. 

_> look at you, up in sf all fancy and shit_

_> probably suited up huh_

Keith glances down at himself and figures that what he was wearing might count as being suited up. Honestly, it was his light gray coat that was doing all the work. It really made him look like he had his life together which Keith figures is all you can ask from a piece of clothing. He’s wearing a white, dress shirt underneath it that was buttoned up high, and a matching gray dress pants with black oxfords. He definitely puts more effort than what he would wear on the daily or to class since he would like to be remembered favorably when he graduates and is looking for an actual job. He does have to admit, though... he looks good.

Keith bites his lip as he sends his reply.

>maybe

Lance’s reply is lightning fast.

_> pics or it didn’t happen_

Keith rolls his eyes. Seriously?

>it’s not like im gonna wear ripped jeans

_> uh huh. Sure, you wouldn’t. _

_> Mr. Zayn malik is my fashion icon_

Keith quirks a brow. Zayn… that name sounds familiar.  Keith swipes out of messaging and opens up Instagram–because of course Lance practically begged him to make one _(“it’s so I can show you quality content, I promise”)_ – and looks up the name.

Oh.

If Lance thinks anything about Zayn reminds him of Keith, then he is more than okay with that. Keith doesn’t bother to reply because it wasn’t like he could send a photo of himself right now. _I’ll send it when I get to the office,_ he thinks.The bathroom has this massive floor to ceiling mirror that was ideal for photos though Keith never thought to take a photo of himself. However, this would definitely be the best reason for it, he’s definitely going to make Lance eat his words.

 _Yeah, that’s the only reason for it, huh,_ a voice laughs.

His Lyft picks him up and Keith gazes out the window, seeing people enter and exit coffee shops, walking down the streets. Some people are biking which Keith thinks is insane but also very impressive.

After a few weeks of interning there, Keith decides he likes San Francisco for the opportunities it offers. Not just career wise but how there was always something going on. An artist always has to stop in the Bay and if they do it’s always in SF. How there is so much delicious hole-in-the-wall restaurants that make Keith feel likes he’s finding a hidden treasure. How it’s almost guaranteed that if he looks up, he will find at least one pride flag covering someone’s window. So, he definitely wouldn’t mind staying and working here past graduation.

His phone buzzes with a notification and he is pulled from his thoughts.

_> so you really out there looking raggedy at work huh?_

Keith cracks a smile. He still has a few minutes until he’s dropped off.

>just wait you ass

> _been waiting_

Keith wants to ask him exactly why he is so insistent that he see Keith’s outfit but he doesn’t because a part of him already knows.

>wait some more.

_> fine, princess_

Once Keith gets dropped off, he quickly thanks the driver and makes his way into the building. He enters the elevator and presses the button for the fifth floor since they share building with other businesses. He tries to calm down the humming of his heart. It was just a picture. He makes his way into the restroom and checks underneath the stalls to make sure no one was present to see make Keith make a fool of himself. The coast was clear. Okay, good.

Keith exhales. He stares at himself, making sure his hair was put together before he opens up the camera app. Oh, God. He takes in his outfit and suddenly he looks less sharp and more pilgrim-ish. _Shut up and do it_ , a voice tells him. He shakes himself. It’s just a picture, he repeats to himself.

The first photo was too dark and Keith could already hear Lance’s voice in his head emphasizing his point on the importance of light. The second and third photo were no better. He has to move around but finally, he finds a spot where there was enough light where he didn’t look that awful. He snaps a pic and once he recognizes his satisfaction with it, he sends it over.

>Happy now?

Ten seconds later, he gets his reply.

_> dammmnnnnn _

That sounds positive, right?  From how fast his heart is beating, Keith figures it is.

_> you clean up nice _

Okay, so it was definitely good. He glances at the top of his screen and calculates that he has exactly five minutes to freak out about this before he starts work. He types out the only coherent thought in his mind.

>yeah?

 _You little shit,_ a voice gleefully shouts in his head. _You know you look good. Shut up,_ he tells it.

Lance replies back within seconds and Keith has to wonder if he’s doing all of this during class. He probably shouldn’t be distracting him from his studies but Lance was a grown-up. If he wants to spend his time complimenting Keith… then who was Keith to stop him?

_> looking like a CEO and shit_

_> (multiple fire emojis)_

Keith raises his hand to his mouth and catches himself doing so in the mirror, his big, dumb grin majorly on display. He leans against the mirror. _Calm. down._

_> you single or what asking for a friend (eye emoji)_

_I’m single as fuck, you idiot._

He doesn’t write out the words.

>thanks?

_> no. thank you_

Thank him…? Keith stares at the words, confused before it clicks.  Oh… God. It was official. Lance was trying to end him. That had to be his motive because after the stripping, after all these little comments… Keith’s heart may just give out.

He stares at the words, thinking of how Lance might look right now, twinkling eyes and a charming grin on those pretty lips. Keith's heart stutters and he leans his back against the mirror, catching his breath. He forces himself to walk over to the sink to get himself together. After he’s pat down his face with some cold water, he glances up at the mirror right in front of him. Bright eyes, pink cheeks and a smile that refused to go away, that’s the usual diagnosis after any interaction with Lance.

“Hey.” Lara, another design intern, notes when he takes his seat.

 She has her long, black hair tied up in a high ponytail. The firm has an open workspace which Keith thought he wouldn’t really like, but it wasn’t so bad when he could lean over and ask Lara questions and vice versa.   They’ve been working together since the end of May so they’re pretty chill with the other. “You look happy.”

“Do I?” _No, shit._

“Yeah,” Lara says, her pink lips curling into a small smile. “Still running on the South Korea game-high?”

Another thing he likes about Lara? She’s watching the World Cup.

“I’ll run on that high for the rest of my life.”

 “You? Man, my whole family was losing it. I’ve never seen so many Korean flags in the house at one time,” Lara says, grinning a little.

 “Yeah, I really hope Japan gets to advance,” Keith says as he waits for his computer to boot up.

 “Me too,” Lara says, “But otherwise, how was your weekend?”

 Keith thinks about hanging out with his teammates on Friday night at their place. Hanging out with Lance on Saturday and all the videos he recorded of the two of them. How he had basically stripped in front of Keith.  Of Lance’s snapchats just now. Lots of good, good things.

“It was…” Keith says, slowly, “really good.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is a little bit into Lance if that isn't obvious. What do you all think? JSYK I am working on the next chapter! I'm not giving a specific timeframe when I'll publish because clearly, that didn't work last time. Hopefully y'all will stick around and see what happens (please do). Drop me a comment and I'll be reading that. 
> 
> +If you wanna come talk to me, hit me up on [tumblr](http:azaraven.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/bluegoodness1) :)

**Author's Note:**

> I am having major FIFA fever and having so much fun watching the games. Of course, it makes me think of these two and how they would fall into the FIFA spectrum. Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> If you wanna come talk to me, hit me up on [tumblr](http:azaraven.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/bluegoodness1) :)
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism is always appreciated :)


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